


Not Dead, Not Defeated

by SmokeAndEmber



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Escape, F/M, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmokeAndEmber/pseuds/SmokeAndEmber
Summary: Short story. What started out as 8 scenes/8 chapters but has now grown since I began posting it (and the writing bug hit!). Sookie was snatched from her life (prior to book 1 / Season 1) and taken to Queen Sophie-Anne's palace.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking through some old files on my computer and came across this. I wrote it a few years ago as a thought experiment, not actually with the intention to ever post it. I haven't been writing much (well, writing my dissertation... not fiction), and so as a compromise to myself, I decided to edit and post this instead. 
> 
> Quite different from my usual stuff. In pacing. Format. Writing style. Sookie is a little different thanks to her circumstances. Eric is the same.
> 
> **FULL DISCLOSURE:** This is a bit of a franken-fic (frankenstein-fic?) in that the first 8 chapters have a very different mood and pacing compared to the ones that follow it. The story still follows the course that I feel is natural for these characters in this world, but you will see where the old writing ends and the new begins, (hence the frankenstein feel - two different styles of writing sewed together into one story).

Footfalls echoed down the corridor. I blinked into the dark, watching as the motion-detecting fluorescents flickered and buzzed to life further down the hall. The shaft of light traveled down the hallway, increasing in brightness as the footsteps drew closer and more banks of lights were triggered into turning on. 

They were so bright I often wondered if it were on purpose. Another form of torture for the prisoners here. The ultra-sensitive vampire eyesight would become so accustomed to the continual dark only to be blinded by the light when their guards drew close. Except tonight, there were too many sets of feet to only be guards. Four, no, five people. Two distinct sets of high heels pecked out a staccato rhythm against the floor. One set of heels clicked against the damp concrete floors, the other clacked. Following behind them, three other pairs of feet. One set of boots. Two sets of dress shoes. All keeping time like off-kilter bass drums. All vampires. 

But that I could tell without hearing. 

The bright lights outside my cell burst to life, and I shrank back against the brick wall beside my cot. I should’ve closed my eyes, should’ve pretended to be asleep. I couldn’t. Number one, because it was futile, any vampire worth a lick would hear the pattering crescendo of my heartbeat and know without even glancing at me that I was awake; and two, I was incurably curious. Life was boring. Dead boring down in the trenches. It was a sad fact of my life that watching people walk past my cell, an act that took mere seconds, was the highlight of my day. Or night, as it were. 

One of the booted-bass drums was a vampire guard I knew, Omar, a honey-skinned Brazilian. He was accompanied by a lithe brunette vampire in the clicking heels, and two other blonde vampires - one male and tall, the other petite and female (she clacked). Trailing behind all four was Andre, Sophie’s favored child. The troupe ignored me as they strode past, though the blonde female bared her fangs to me and hissed. Despite the show, her mien was harmless. She was after a reaction for her own amusement. I didn’t flinch. Just kept a passive faced. Bared fangs were hardly the worst thing I’d seen down here. 

I laid back down and closed my eyes after they passed, listening as they interrogated a prisoner further down the hall, somewhere deeper within the trenches. The telltale screams and sounds of fists beating against skin echoed off the concrete floors and walls. A shriek as something was ripped. A limb, maybe? I curled my knees a little closer to my chest and managed to drift back to sleep. No easy feat, when someone is screaming for mercy not thirty feet away from you, but if I wanted to sleep at night this was what I had to put up with. There was one thing I’d come to learn in my time down here: take sleep where you could find it. It was the only escape life offered you.

I roused again with the flickering lights when they turned back on. Footsteps returned up the hall once more. I didn’t know how long had passed. Minutes? Hours? 

“Who is this tasty morsel?” The petite blonde female asked as they slowed past my cell. They all look at me; I watched them quietly in return. The pretty blonde’s fangs were fully descended, her shirt splattered with blood. Clearly not hers. 

“This is the queen’s pet,” Andre said with a dismissive wave. The tall, imposing blonde vampire to his right glanced briefly at Andre before turning his attention to me also. He was also liberally coated in blood. Also liberally arresting in his good looks. But I didn’t like either blonde’s hungry stares. I hadn’t enough blood these days to go around for either of them.

“Someone’s been a bad kitty,” the blonde female purred, stroking the metal bars. 

“You have a bit of schmutz,” I said flatly, motioning to the corner of my lip. Her hand lifted automatically to wipe the corner of her mouth. The tall good-looking vampire laughed.

“Don’t engage her,” Andre said, motioning for them to continue up the hall toward the exit. “Sophie’s quite attached.”

“I can tell,” the tall vampire deadpanned. I bet he could. After my blood collection earlier that night, my skin had to be as grey as my prison garb. The group moved on. I yawned and settled back down to sleep, curling an arm under my head where a pillow should have been. 

It's funny how you can never tell exactly when fate intervenes until much later down the track. At that point, I had no clue.


	2. II

Many, many nights passed before I saw him again. Him being the tall blonde one with the arresting stare. Maybe two months or more had gone by. I couldn't be sure. I stopped counting the days long ago. They all blurred into one. It was better that way. Easier. The only distinction between day and night was the buzzing rise of vampire minds around me when they shifted into consciousness at sunset and the startling force with which they blinked out of existence at dawn. To think I’d once enjoyed the quiet respite they offered me. Now I would kill, just kill, to hear anything else other than my own thoughts and the gruff orders of my guards.

Yes, I realize I’m willfully choosing to forget the sounds of torture and despair that echo across these walls. Satan’s soundtrack.

Sometimes if I strained hard enough in the daytime, I could hear snatches of human thoughts on the floors above me. I was weakened from constant blood loss and anemia, and it apparently weakened my telepathy too. It was never anything of note that I heard. Donors. Palace staff. Lost in the meandering inane troubles of their ordinary, safe lives.

How long had I lived here for now? I figured at least one year had passed, one slow day at a time down in the trenches. 

_The trenches_. That was Queen Sophie-Anne's name for the long row of basement prison cells under her New Orleans’ palace. It was built beneath sea level, as was everything in this part of the world once you dug down. It must’ve been a mighty feat in design and engineering to have them built. The basement was wet and dank. A constant dripping could be heard no matter where you were on the floor. The concrete walls were mildewed, streaked with moisture like dark rivulets running down a dreary landscape. If I looked up in bed the ceiling was marked by dark portraits of black mold. A monochrome Monet. This was my world. A veritable art gallery of awfulness.

That night I was sitting on my cot, the only dry spot in my cell, picking at my dinner. A carefully prepared medium-rare steak, cut into cubes, with a side of broccoli spears and new potatoes. All finger-sized bites. Sookie Stackhouse was not to be trusted with cutlery, oh no. A lesson quickly learned by the were guards delivering dinner when I was still living upstairs. That guard probably still sported the scar from where my fork cheerfully greeted the back his hand.

Tonight, I ate with my eyes closed, lost deep in thought. I was halfway through remembering _Of Mice and Men_. I read it in high school, I even wrote a book project on it. I got my highest grade of the year on that project. Not that it was especially high grade. But my marks were always better on any projects or assignments I could work on at home. Being trapped in a classroom with 30 other brains thinking just as hard as you made schooling for a telepath next to impossible. I _sucked_ at tests.

__

__

I loved book projects especially, though. It was easy to lose myself in books back then. They were completely consuming, especially if I was alone in my room, away from the intrusive thoughts of others.

I desperately missed books. Longed for them. For any escape really, even if it was just mentally rather than physically. So this was my own way of getting around it. I tamped my loneliness by slowly remembering books I’d read. Scene by scene would play out across my mind over the course of days, fleshed out mostly by imagined details since I’d long forgotten the specifics. 

I was stuck somewhere between the point in _Of Mice and Men_ where Lennie, the big guy, accidentally crushed the hand of someone. But who… Why? I couldn’t remember. It was frustrating as all get out. I let out a small growl before opening my eyes to grab another piece of steak. My growl turned into a yip of surprise at the unexpected appearance of a vampire leaning against the cell bars. He was watching me with a curious look. 

“Good Lord, you gave me a fright!” I exclaimed, pressing a hand against my chest. My heart drummed wildly in my chest. I hadn’t even heard or felt him appear - I'd been so lost in thought. 

He smirked. He was one of the blonde vampires I’d seen those months earlier. The trenches didn’t get many visitors, so of course I remembered him. Tall and self-assured, he looked as deadly as he did handsome. Long blonde hair, strong jaw. Definitely a leading man look from one of my old bodice rippers. Who was he? A visiting dignitary, perhaps? Or maybe an emissary from another court. He could be part of Sophie’s retinue in other areas of the state. He definitely radiated the necessary authority.

I wanted to ask but knew from experience to hold my tongue. One of these days Andre would make good on his threat and finally cut it off.

“Back again?” he asked me. I couldn’t remember what he wore last time, but tonight he was in charcoal gray suit pants, tailored to fit no doubt, dress shoes and a black button-up shirt. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, a purposefully casual pose.

“Again?”

“Back in jail.” He rapped the metal bar with his knuckle.

“I should be so lucky,” I said with a derisive snort

He frowned, his chin lifting slightly. It took him a few seconds. “…You haven’t left?” I made a noise of confirmation and swallowed another mouthful of food. “I thought you were Sophie’s pet,” he said. I liked his voice. Smooth and baritone.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it.”

His brow furrowed deeper. I didn’t appreciate the way he was looking at me. Like I was some sort of curio to be puzzled over. But I was hardly in a position to be picky over the company I kept. The vampires in the cells around me were either chained in silver or submerged in saltwater tanks. Half were in too much pain to carry on a conversation with me, the other half simply unable to. I had no one to talk to; so I would take my slim pickings where I could find them.

“Can I ask you a question?” I wiped my fingers clean on the paper napkin that came with my plate of food. He nodded, though his expression remained cool and passive. “Have you read John Steinbeck?” 

He blinked. 

“Specifically _Of Mice and Men_?” I continued. “It’s driving me nuts. Whose hand did Lennie crush? Was it the old man’s? It’s such a small detail but it’s driving me mad. I know it. I know I know it. I just can’t remember.”

“I’ve not read it.” 

“Drat.” I sighed, my shoulders slumped. “It was worth a shot, I guess.” I picked up a piece of steak with a grimace. It was perfectly cooked, well-seasoned. But I’d eaten nothing but steak for dinner since I was imprisoned. I hated it a passion. If I ever got out of here I swore to myself I’d never, ever, ever again eat beef again. 

“Why does she keep you here?” he asked.

“The Queen?”

“Yes, the Queen.” 

“She wants me close without having to deal with me, I guess.” Judging by his clouded expression, I didn’t think I had answered the question to his satisfaction, so I shrugged. “Why are you here?” 

“Official business.” 

“Sounds… bloody.” 

“It often is,” he said flashing a little fang. I found myself having to suppress a laugh. Oh boy, my moral compass was well and truly shot if joking about torture was the sort of thing that amused me these days. “How long have you been here?” he asked. 

“What’s with the questions?” I shot back. The corner of his lip curled upwards in a charming, boyish way. It surprised me. Most vampires were just brooding and surly.

“Suspicious?” he asked.

“Always.”

“You’re right to be suspicious.” He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned closer to the bars, conspiratorially. “I’m a suspicious character.” 

I found myself smiling at him. A guard appeared at his side and whispered something to the vampire’s ear. He nodded and shot me a wink as he left, heading deeper into the trenches.

“Wait!” I leaped off the bed, nearly slipping over the slick floors. They were always damp. “What date is it today?” I called out from between the cell bars. 

“April twenty-eight,” he said over his shoulder as strode down the hall, his back to me. He was already rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves - no doubt getting ready for his bloody official business.

“And the year?” I couldn’t see him now, could only hear the footfalls of him and the guard as they disappeared around the corner. 

“2005,” he called back. I slumped against the cell door, my grip on the cool bars weakening. 

“Nearly two years,” I whispered to myself. The knowledge, while not entirely unexpected, rocked me. I mean I knew it. I’d known it for a while now, hadn’t I? No one was coming to find me.

I shuffled back to my cot. I was a fool to ever entertain a notion otherwise. Back when I first arrived and still had my own suite upstairs in the palace, Sophie had made a passing mention of how she had her procurer glamour townsfolk into thinking I’d left town semi-permanently. But knowing, actually knowing, that much time had passed? That I had rotted away down here for nearly two years as her pet? 

I forced down the rest of my meal and retired early for bed, once again listening to the sounds of screams and beatings from down the corridor. I didn’t cry. I felt too hollow inside for that. I didn’t see the blonde vampire again that night. I fell asleep. No - actually, I fell further. The empty feeling inside me was too deep. So deep that it was as if I’d fallen l head first into it and lost all sense of myself along the way.

The next night there was a surprise addition with my evening meal. A copy of Steinbeck’s _Of Mice and Men_, tucked under the paper plate on my tray. I’d read it twice by the next morning.


	3. III

They always kept the cell directly across from me empty. If they could, the cell to the left and the right of me were also often empty too or just used for prisoner submersion tanks. The guards, or maybe it was the Queen, liked to keep a wide buffer around me. Around my attractive scent. Particularly if it was that time of month, though it wasn’t for me at that moment.

I waited longer than usual after my evening meal for the guard to lead me to the showers. It was highly unusual. I was always to shower before Andre came to collect my blood. And tonight was collection night. My guard for the evening, a new vampire I hadn’t seen before, gripped my arm painfully tight and frog marched me to the concrete washrooms.

I made use of the toilet there and then emptied and washed the bucket I’d brought with me, the crude version of a chamber pot for my cell. I stripped nude to shower under the hot stream of water that shot out of the industrial style spout. I had two minutes exactly before the water ran out, but I had it down to a fine art, washing my hair and body thoroughly in the short time allotted. I always made sure to time it just right so I’d have a good twenty seconds to simply stand and enjoy the sensation of hot water running over me. I dressed into the clean pair of prison scrubs waiting for me, then towel dried my hair before the new guard grabbed my arm and marched me back to my cells. 

Immediately, thanks to my quirk, I felt the influx of vampire minds that had filled the cells in my absence. The guard shot me a sideways glance, perhaps noticing my jolt in heart rate, but I kept my gaze focused ahead and my face passive. All the cells - every single one - had filled while I was showering. It was new. Unexpected. It was something that had never happened before tonight. 

Shit had gone down. And the noise was godawful; water splashing, moans and screams. Sweet Jesus, what had happened upstairs?

I was shuffled back into my cell and the barred cell-doors rolled shut behind me. The lock engaged with a heavy metallic thunk. The prisoners either side of me were in Sophie’s own favored patent-pending submersion tanks, but in the cell across from me was a vampire chained in silver to the wall. I gasped in recognition. My vampire friend! Goodness knows how long had passed since I’d seen him last. 

The sound and smell of silver burning his flesh was stomach-turning, but I grasped the cell bars and pressed myself against them so I could see him better. 

“What are you doing here?” I hissed. 

He was beaten and bloody, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt torn at one shoulder. They’d divested him of his shoes in order to fit the silver shackles and chains around his ankles. Blood dripped down and over the pale lengths of his feet onto the puddled floor. He looked like shit, pardon the phrase. But his eyes were very much alive. Blood lusty. 

“Passing through on vacation,” he rasped, cracking a grin. His fangs were down, but it seemed more like an involuntary response to the pain rather than for show.

“Some rest stop.” I looked up and down the hall. The guard had returned to his post and hopefully out of earshot. The trenches were noisy tonight. 

“There was an attempted coup tonight while her majesty was holding court. I happened to be in attendance. The Queen was not satisfied with my efforts to guard her.” He shrugged, though the movement caused his eyes to flash with pain. “It was an abysmal attempt at her throne by Arkansas, she wasn’t in need of my assistance… Yet, here I am.” 

“She lives?” I asked, unable to keep the hope from my voice. 

“Yes. Though she is very… pissy, I believe the term is.”

I grimaced. Sophie-Anne certainly had a tendency to get pissy. “Are you in a lot of pain?” 

“It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” I replied disbelievingly. 

It didn’t look like nothing. It looked like a whole lotta unpleasantness and pain. Maybe vampire men were a lot like their human equivalents, too proud to let on how bad their injuries were to us fairer folk, even when it was plainly obvious. I mean, I could hear the chains sizzling against his skin like bacon on a pan, for cripe’s sake. 

I rolled my eyes at his stubborn expression and sat down cross-legged on my cot. I slowly worked my fingers through my hair, combing out the knots as best I could. There was a patch at the back which matted consistently and was a pain in the behind to untangle, but thankfully it wasn’t so knotted that evening. I wondered how long I would have his company for. One night? Maybe two? This was the most excitement I’d had since I’d been in the trenches. The prospect of having company for a night or two perked me up. It almost made up for missing Christmas the last two years. Almost.

“July 18,” he said. 

“Pardon?” I lifted my gaze to meet his, tilting my head a little to the side so I could get a better view of him from between our cell bars. 

“Today’s date.” 

“Okay.” I exhaled slowly, absorbing the knowledge and then took a deep breath. “I’m twenty-seven.” 

He looked at me strangely. 

“Now,” I clarified. “I’m twenty-seven now. My birthday was at the beginning of the month.” 

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. “And thank you for the book.” 

“I take it you enjoyed it, and it answered all your questions?” 

“Oh yes, I think I’ve read it so many times now that I could quote it in its entirety.” 

“Let’s hear it then.” He smiled at me in an indulgent sort of way. It looked funny, not ha-ha funny, but strange-funny what with his fangs out.

I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t know about that...” 

“You have something else better to be doing?” 

“Oh geez, next you’re gonna tell me it’s pure luck that you were placed in the cell across from me.” 

He laughed deeply. It resonated off the walls in such an unexpectedly warm way. I hadn’t heard anything like it… for years now. My eyes prickled. A simple, innocent sound of pleasure. It made his request very hard to deny. I’d finished untangling the front of my hair and so I closed my eyes, picturing the opening scene of the novel in my mind. It was easier to focus without those piercing blue eyes of his staring me down. 

“A few miles south of Soledad,” I began, “the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it’s slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool… On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees- willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf… their lower leaf… junctures,” I paused to take a deep breath, giving the rest of the sentence time to come to my mind. “The debris of the winter's flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees, the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them.” 

I opened my eyes to see him studying me intently. “Keep going,” he urged gruffly. I nodded, and closed my eyes again, unsure what to make of his response. 

“Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in the evening,” I said. “And the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of 'coons, and with the spread pads of dogs from the ranches, and with the split-wedge tracks of deer that come to drink in the dark…” I trailed off as I felt the telltale movement of voids approaching from the right where the entrance to the prison was situated. 

I slumped as footsteps sounded softly down the corridor becoming more distinct as they drew close. I could recognize Andre’s gait anywhere. His quiet steps were smooth and light, like a cat getting ready to pounce. 

My cell door rattled along its tracks, and I opened my eyes once it fully opened. I hated Andre more than I ever had in that moment. And I didn’t even think it was possible to hate him any more than I already did. I wanted to be left alone so I could keep reciting the novel. Where I could carry on a conversation with someone who wanted to talk to me. With an actual person. Where I wasn’t just a confined blood bag, locked in a cell and ignored for two years and forevermore. 

“I see you’re getting cozy with your new neighbor,” Andre said with a deliberate sneer. I held his gaze and lifted my arm for him, ready for the needle. He sat beside me and began rubbing and tapping the inside of my elbow, bringing the blood to the surface. “Oh yes… This will do,” he murmured. 

I watched wordlessly as he pressed the thick tip of the needle into the vein. The blood welled and then filled the small tube, running through the line into the collection bag. I didn’t know what the vampire in the cell opposite must’ve been thinking but I decided, either way, it was better to just not look at him. He was probably in dire need of blood right now. It must’ve been difficult for him to watch.

“Sophie’s had a busy evening,” I remarked after a minute of watching the bag fill. Andre’s responding icy look was enough to silence any sort of questioning in that regard. 

“_The Queen_,” he intoned, “is well equipped to handle any feeble attempt at the throne.” 

“Only thanks to the Berts,” came the casual reply of my vampire cell buddy across from us. 

The hand with which Andre was holding my wrist squeezed tightly. His nails bit down hard into my skin. It took everything I had not to smirk, so I chewed on my bottom lip instead, keeping my gaze averted. The Berts, Wybert and Sigebert, were Sophie-Anne’s hulking vampire children and unofficial bodyguards. Unlike Andre in stature and presence - and in just about every other way – and thanks to their constant presence by the queen's side, they afforded her a degree of comfortability and security on her throne. No one messed with the Berts. 

“Shall I recommend the length of your stay increased, Northman?” Andre hissed. His pale face was almost luminous with restrained anger, his eyes glassy.

“If only for the view,” the vampire replied smoothly and when I jerked my head up to look at him, he winked. He was charming, even when shackled and chained. A loud moan of distress traveled up the corridor from further within the trenches. One of the new arrivals wasn’t having such a merry old time. I wondered how strong or old my vampire friend must be that he could still easily converse in silver chains while others only feet away cried out in suffering.

When the bag had filled, Andre withdrew the needle and bit into his own wrist offering it to me. I felt a sweep of shame and repulsion, and for a second I simply stared at the blood that pooled there on his pearly white skin. I had drunk from his wrist many times before, it helped me replenish my blood supply so I could produce more for the Queen. But having a spectator for the first time… It made it feel all the more disgusting. It made me feel disgusting. Like _I_ was disgusting.

Andre took the choice away and jammed his wrist roughly against my lips, forcing me to drink. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled at the wound only twice, willing it to heal over quickly. Andre’s hand lowered to fondle my breasts and in the next breath his fangs sunk into my neck. I cried out, trying weakly push him away from me as he forced me back against the hard mattress of the cot. I knew it was stupid, I knew I should’ve just lay still - my movements were only serving to incite him, but my reflexes outran any rational thought. 

He drank deeply and panic raced through me, twisting and cracking like an exposed live wire. He’d never drank from me before. At least not directly. Both his hands squeezed my breasts now and I had nearly fallen off the bed in struggle by the time he drew himself away. 

“Delicious,” he slurred thickly, licking his fangs clean. 

I stared aghast and clutched my neck. He flicked my hands away from the puncture wounds and wiped the residual blood from his wrist against my neck, healing the marks. Andre stood stiffly, adjusting his trousers, a damp patch forming. His cheeks were pink, the curl to his lips lively and nauseating. I moved to sit up but the accompanying dizziness forced me back on my side on the bed. 

“Don’t forget who owns you,” he snarled at me coldly. A moment later he was gone, my blood safely in the baggie in his hand; my cell door once again locked. 

I lay in shock, still gasping, wanting to say something to the vampire, but I couldn’t. Humiliation stayed my tongue, turning it thick and unusable. It felt as though Andre had robbed me not only of my blood but of my dignity too. Oh God… Stealing it away with his awful pointed fangs and that sterile bag. I rolled over putting my back to my vampire friend and forced my eyes closed. I jammed my fist into my mouth, my internal voice screaming at me not to cry. Lord save me, what the hell had just happened? 

In all my time here, a vampire had never touched me in such a way. Never. Sophie-Anne may hate me, but she had made good on her promise that I would go unmolested, aside from my regular blood-letting.

My breathing began to even. I thought of home. Sometimes it all felt so far away that it was like my old life had never existed. Bon Temps was simply a figment of my imagination. I just wanted to go home. It was difficult to fathom, even now after all this time, that this was my reality. Part of me still waited to wake up from this nightmare. I missed everything and everyone so damn much. What would Gran be doing right now? Sitting outside on the swing seat, reading her book under the porch light with a glass of tea? Or safely tucked in bed, comforted by the false belief I was out of state studying at college? 

But wondering was a fool’s endeavor. Going home was an impossibility. In fact, home was as good as a figment of my imagination. While the Queen saw use for my blood, I was stuck here. And when she no longer saw use in me, I was sure I’d be dead the minute after. 

I waited for the motion-detecting lights to flick off, thanking God that such technology even existed. Thanking God that the vampire in the next cell didn’t choose to speak to me further. Sleep found me quickly. 

I woke sometime later in pitch black. It was humid. Not surprising, now that I knew it was the height of summer. I had no blanket, but the darkness was as comforting as one. I rolled onto my back, not feeling so woozy. Whatever blood Andre had taken must have by now been partially replenished with his own infusion. I stared up at the near perfect dark and folded my hands over my stomach. There was a soft glow coming from the right where the vampire in his cell still remained, chained to the wall. 

“Has he done that before?” came the vampire’s voice. He spoke gently, his words traveling through the dark just for me. 

“No,” I said. “Never. He normally just takes my blood for the Queen. He’s never fed from me. Ever.” I sighed raggedly. “He’s such a creep.” 

“You’ve never shared blood with him before?”

“No. Not like that.” 

I heard the vampire exhale as if in relief. 

“Why?” I asked, worry filling me, “Is it bad that we shared blood?” 

“Not if it was the first time. If it was the third time it would be a different story.” 

“How?”

“You would be bonded. You would be his. He would always feel you, track you, and you would feel him too. His emotions, his influence.” 

“Shit. Well, I’m the Queen’s, not Andre’s…” 

“For that reason, I don’t think he’ll try to bond with you. I think he fed from you only because I was here.”

I laughed hollowly at that. “Marking territory. Like a dog pissing on a fence post.” 

“An attractive fencepost.” I could hear the smile in his voice. I scoffed. So not the time. But I was suddenly even more thankful to be lying in the dark, somewhat obscured from his sight. I knew that I looked like a wreck. My hair was a mess, I was pale as a ghost, likely anemic - especially after tonight's antics. And even on a good day, I wasn't much to write home about. My level of fitness was restricted to what I was able to do within the four walls of my cell… Which wasn’t a whole lot. Jumping jacks, sit-ups, pushups, and these awful things called burpees an old twoey guard upstairs once told me about. Even so, I wasn’t as fit as I was back when I worked at Merlotte’s waitressing on my feet all day and night. Though I wouldn't say I had been a particularly vain woman, I'd had always taken great care in my appearance. A year-round tan. I kept my blond hair clean, silky and long. So back then, if this guy had been interested in me I don't think I would've been as shocked as I was now.

“Do you know what I love about that book?” I said, steering the conversation away from my looks and fenceposts. 

“No. Tell me,” came his reply.

“How vivid a picture the author paints. It’s like really being there. I can just picture every scene, the landscape, the smell of the earth, how the leaves look dappled in the sunset. I can see the rolling hills of the prairie, the way that snapping turtle at the beginning walks across the road. I can just picture his little wrinkled face, the heat rising from the road.” 

“I’m glad I could be of service.” 

“I’ve been stuck in here so long,” I said quietly. “It’s easy to feel like the entire universe exists here within the trenches. It’s hard to imagine that there even is an outside. You know, the sunshine. The starlight. A city existing outside the palace on street level. The people coming and going. Workers, tourists. Regular folk. Occupied by worries of their own. Hell, just having company is a treat.” I laughed self-consciously into the darkness above me. “Oh geez, I’m sorry, I’m talking your ear off. You must feel wretched right now.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 

“My scent, maybe.” I knew that was likely the reason I held this vampire’s interest. And every vampires’, at least initially. My blood and my scent. He, like most vampires, took an interest to me because I smelled nice. But I scolded myself. Buck up, Stackhouse, I told myself. No good came from pitying yourself. Who cares why he likes you? You have a friend after a very lonely time. Count this as a blessing. 

“Is that why the Queen keeps you here? Your scent? To protect your blood?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s because I can’t be glamoured.” That knowledge was met with silence. I turned my head so my cheek lay flat on the cot and I could see him. As my eyes adjusted, his features came into sharp relief against the black. I could actually see him quite clearly now, glowing in the dark. I realized with a start I was glowing too. Andre must’ve given me more blood than I realized. Or maybe taken so much from me that my human to vampire blood ratio was way outta whack.

“You can try,” I said. “Try glamour me. I’m sure you want to. Every vampire I’ve met from Sophie’s retinue has tried to glamour me. I think they fancied themselves a bit like Arthur trying to pull the sword from stone.” 

He chuckled. “No, I believe you.” 

“Good.” I shared a small smile with him, somehow incredibly pleased he didn't want to try.

“Although, I suspect there’s more to your story and why you’re down here than just your inability to be glamoured.” 

“I tried to escape a bunch of times.” I smiled ruefully, thinking back. “She couldn’t glamour me to stay, so I guess it was easier to keep me here.” I also was willfully defiant at every turn. Sophie-Anne Le Clerq and Andre stole me from my life, and so I tried to make them and everyone here miserable. I was stubborn, dug my heels in with every request, spoke rudely to the Queen in front of her subjects, trashed my suite after my first escape attempt, and spurned any attempt at conversation the Queen made to warm me to my new surroundings. 

My efforts worked a little too well.

Sophie had enough of my antics and locked me up and essentially threw away the key. In some ways it served me right. What did I expect? I was always a little too good at being a stubborn bitch. 

“She’s never let you out?” 

“Never. I think I remind her too much of Hadley, her old pet. We were cousins. She died before I came here. Some of the donors once told me they really loved each other. Hadley’s blood was pretty nice too, I guess. Andre sent someone out to look for her familial relations after her death. And so here I am.” 

“I remember Hadley. She could be glamoured,” he said contemplatively. I didn’t offer any theories or explanations. I was sure it was to do with my telepathy. But, so far and somehow, my extra sense wasn’t common knowledge. Hadley never said anything in her short time as Sophie-Anne’s pet, and it hadn’t been revealed by any of the townsfolk back home, although most of them thought I was just crazy, not telepathic.

“Alright, that was my tat,” I said. “I believe it’s time for your tit. Who are you? What’s your deal?” 

“My deal?”

“Uh-huh. You know what I mean.”

“I’m one of Sophie-Anne’s sheriffs.”

“Which area?”

“Five.”

My mouth opened in stunned surprise, and I immediately turned completely to my side, propping myself up onto my elbow to see him better. “Really?”

“Yes.” 

I searched his face for clues, but I couldn’t see anything. I stood up and walked to the bars, waving my arms through them and triggering the lights. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the artificial glow. 

“Really?” I questioned again. He nodded, his brows pinching in confusion. He seemed to be coping with the silver better now, though the blood was still exiting his wounds where he was shackled at a slow yet steady trickle. “Am I why you’re here?” I asked. 

“Why would you think that?” 

“I lived in your area.” Andre once gave me a rundown of vampire politics and Area Five was the only one I remembered on a map. Only because Bon Temps was smack bang in the middle of it. 

“You jest.” His eyes flashed, his tongue darting out to lick his gums, as if they were itching. I shook my head and clasped the cool bars of my cell. 

“Bon Temps, born and raised.”

His gaze completely stripped me down, he looked almost feral. I stepped back a little. Maybe my proximity, my scent, made it difficult to be in his company while he was suffering. 

“Is that bad?” I whispered. 

“Were you taken willingly?”

“No, of course not! Why would I willingly leave home for this?” I gestured to the cell around me.

“It’s bad because the Queen is mainstreaming.” I’d heard that term before. When vampires tried to live within human laws, drink synthetic blood, and attempt to blend in and become part of everyday society. 

I snorted at the absurdity of his statement. Mainstreaming was the furthest thing away on the very distant and opposite end of the spectrum compared to how Queen Sophie-Anne and the other vampires in the palace lived and conducted themselves. 

“I don’t think my accommodations and current lifestyle are exactly conducive to the Queen mainstreaming.” I tugged on my earlobe and gave him a significant look. There were listening devices everywhere down here. This vampire needed to watch his tongue, otherwise the Queen might see fit to cut it out. I’d heard it happen to vampires more than once during my tenure in the trenches. Andre didn't jest whenever he threatened me with the same. The vampire nodded in understanding, but the movement was so slight I barely caught it.

I retreated to my bed and laid back down on my side, letting out a huge yawn. I needed to rest but I didn’t want to fall asleep yet. 

“Tell me a story,” I said eventually, once the lights had flicked out. 

“You want a bedtime story?” His amusement was palpable. I opened an eye and confirmed visually with a nod.

“Don’t laugh. You have no idea how boring my life is. Your book was the first piece of entertainment I’ve had since being locked up in here. I wanna hear something that will keep me entertained long after you’re gone. So please, humor me.” I brought my knees closer to my chest and wrapped my arm around them. 

“I don’t believe I’m quite so well-read that I could recite a novel at length.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t have to be a novel. I’m sure you have some interesting tales of your own.”

“That I do,” he replied in a mischievous tone. 

“Nothing nasty or improper, if you would be so kind,” I replied and rolled my eyes. He chuckled, and to my delight he went on to tell me about his journeys through the 1500s. He resided in Japan during the Sengoku period. 

With a little prompting, he described the landscape in great detail, how the hills rose from the earth like knuckled growths covered in dense forest and thin mists; the way the leaves changed in fall as if a fistful of glowing coals had been thrown across the countryside. The change of season turned every leaf into brilliant shades of orange, red, and gold. He told me of a young woman he courted in between fighting in the small civil wars that were rife throughout country at the time. How she used to fold her hands delicately in her lap as if they were an origami folding. He spoke of the way she would hold her breath while he kissed her, once for so long she fainted clean away in his arms. 

He told me how he spent a year as a samurai with his own small fleet of foot soldiers. He described one prodigious battle where he and his troupe drove a great horde of enemies into a narrow valley. Using rope he and his men had painstakingly made from rice straw, they tied pine torches to the horns of a herd of oxen, then lit them and sent the herd stampeding into the valley. With their enemies trapped, terrified, and trampled, he and his small army ambushed from all sides, descending from trees where they had hidden, and slaying them all quickly and ruthlessly. It was gruesome but it was also completely incredible and fantastical and unbelievably real. Far better than any novel. 

I stayed awake for as long as I could, far longer than I should have, and until I could no longer. I fell asleep as he transported me to another world other than my own awful one and with only his words. I was deliriously happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That battle Eric describes actually occurred in that era of history. Though, of course, not lead by our dashing undead Viking.


	4. IV

I lay there watching him for the longest time. His face was slack, no expression, features softened with sleep. Although, it wasn’t sleep… He was dead. Or something close to it. He was also terribly pale. The fluorescent lighting obscured much of his supernatural glow, but his coloring was still pallid and somehow wrong. Maybe it was the constant skin contact with silver and lack of blood making him appear more drawn. 

I wondered how far into the day it was. How many hours had I slept? I always slept more following a blood donation. I couldn’t wait for him to wake so I could talk to him again. How many more nights would I have his company? Of course I didn’t want him imprisoned, especially given he was in pain, but a very selfish part of me wanted him to stay. I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. I was being silly. He would go and I would be alone again. It was better I didn’t become adjusted to his company. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a Were guard delivering breakfast. It was warmed oatmeal topped with chopped banana, a cup of orange juice and finally, the one bright spark of my daily routine, a small paper cup filled with coffee. New Orleans style, of course. Sweet and flavored with chicory. For the first time since being imprisoned, I left the coffee untouched. I didn't want the stimulant; I was anxious to sleep the day away.

I slept right through lunch and was shaken roughly for dinner. I now had two platters waiting to be eaten. Lunch and dinner. My diet was carefully maintained and calculated by an on-site nutritionist. All the donors in the palace were. Optimal health meant optimal blood donation. The better fed we were the better we were at replenishing it. We were like dairy cattle, but instead of milk, we produced blood. I was partway through my steak dinner when my vampire friend roused. I stopped chewing in shock, and we blinked at each other.

“You’re awake,” I remarked somewhat lamely.

“You’re pleased to see me.” A charming grin transformed his face, and I resisted an embarrassingly girly urge to run a self-conscious hand through my hair. The sight of his fangs peeking below his top lips sure helped. This was prison. And my sentence was for life. A pretty vampire with flirty words and a dashing smile was definitely not enough to make me act like a schoolgirl. You got that, Stackhouse? Definitely. Not.

“Everyone else is out to it,” I said. “How come you’re up?” 

“With age I better resist the pull of the sun.” Of course. I had a vague recollection of Sophie-Anne saying as much about herself once. “You look better today,” he remarked with a tilt of his head. “Better rested. More color to your skin.” 

“Vampire blood and a steak day keep the doctor away,” I quipped. 

“Andre feeds you every day?” I detected a sort of faint concern in the way his gaze hardened. No, it wasn’t quite concern, unease perhaps.

I snorted. “Lord help me, no. He takes blood three times a week, twice if I’m lucky. He maybe feeds me once a week.” 

Now his unease morphed into ire. “That is too much blood for you to lose. You do not have time to replenish your stores. Even with vampire blood.” 

“You’ll have to take that up with my captors, not me, big guy.”

He fell silent, although his brow quirked at my nickname. I shrugged lightly and focused on finishing my meals. I didn’t fancy making the guard cantankerous if I hadn’t finished both plates before he returned. The vampire waited silently until I had picked at the last of my sandwich from my lunch plate before he spoke.

“It’s your turn for a story,” he said. His request took me by surprise.

“Really? I think my most interesting story would pale in comparison to even your least interesting.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“My life was boring. Is boring. There was just a brief blip of interesting-ness two years ago when I was stolen from my life. Although," I said with a soft, wistful laugh, "I realize in retrospect that my old life was wonderfully, perfectly boring.” I missed my old life terribly. “So before being kidnapped, there was very little of note in my life. Certainly no adventuring through forming nations or heading off to battle as a samurai.” 

“Tell me something of note then.” 

I grumbled out an agreement when he wouldn’t back down. I thought back on my short life. There wasn’t a whole lot that made it to the highlight reel for Sookie Stackhouse. I thought of one memory though, something I often liked to relive on my lowest days here in the trenches. 

“Okay, well, this isn’t the most exciting story but maybe one you can appreciate. It was summer, I think I’d just finished seventh grade… My best friend and I managed to convince my gran to let us go camping out in the woods. Tara’s mom didn’t give a rat’s if she was home or not, but I’d never spent the night away from home without adult supervision before. It felt like a pretty big deal. 

“We borrowed Jason’s tent, much to his annoyance – oh, Jason’s my brother, by the way – and then we stocked up on snacks, flashlights, and a stack of those stupid teen magazines that we’d found at a yard sale the week before. We hiked out to the edge of my family’s property, there’s a hill that crests quite high there, and we camped right at the top on the flattest part. It was a fun day, but when night fell I drifted off to sleep in my camping chair by the fire. I didn’t mean to, but it was so peaceful and quiet.” Mainly because I only had to deal with the thoughts of one other person rather than a household or classroom-full. “Tara was pissed, so she just left me there in that chair, gettin’ bug bitten and exposed to the elements, but she ended up falling asleep next to me, reading magazines and eating most of our food supply out of spite.

“We both woke at dawn, though. Without realizing it, we’d set up camp looking directly towards the east. The both of us sat there in our chairs, damp and dewy from the drop in humidity overnight, and stunned into complete silence watching the sunrise break over the forest. It rolled across the tops of trees towards us, like, like God was laying out a golden path to heaven just for us. You could visibly see the creep of the sun rising above the trees. I never even knew that was possible, I always imagined it would be too slow to be perceptible. 

“And the colors?” I said, pausing to conjure the image in my mind. “I can’t begin to do it justice in my own words. Shades of orange and yellows melting into one another and chasing away the last of the night. The clouds were stained pale pink, like the time Jason threw his football jersey in the wash with the white linens. The forest was slowly transforming from this… this mass of dark shapes into this vibrant city of green towering trees. The sun warmed us, warmed our faces, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Tara trying to sneak away her tears without me noticing. Not that she needed to. I got why she was crying. It was spiritual. Like we were witnessing God’s work in action and he was kissing our cheeks with the sun itself. 

“It was maybe the only time in my life I’ve ever been truly present. There was no past, no future, no worries or responsibilities. Nothing else occupying my thoughts. Just me, my chair, my best friend by my side, and this amazing view surrendering itself at our feet…” I trailed off as I took in the vampire’s response to my words. His eyes were startlingly blue and wide like he was seeing me for the first time. He didn’t say anything. 

“And that’s all, really. That’s the story,” I finished nervously. “Not much really, but –”

“What are you?” he asked quietly, his gaze darting across my face and form where I sat on the bed. 

I felt the pre-emptive sting of tears, and I exhaled slowly trying to clasp hold of my cartwheeling emotions. 

_What was I?_

Silence stretched out before my voice returned to me. “Nothing,” I finally answered, my voice subdued. “Maybe back then I was something, maybe. But in here I’m nothing.” 

The somber mood soon dissipated and we passed a whole evening chatting back and forth to one another. We could’ve been two strangers at a dinner party engaged in lighthearted conversations seated across from each other, not two prisoners thrown together by circumstance and misfortune. One of us chained to a wall. Though if I were being honest, if there were a dinner party involving me here at the Queen’s palace, I’d likely find myself served on a platter, not seated around the table. 

Despite its twisted truth, the image made me chuckle.


	5. V

The next night when Omar strode purposefully from his guard station to collect my dinner tray, I found myself watching in surprise when he instead unlocked the vampire’s cell door and rolled it open. Omar nodded deeply to my vampire friend, who gave a perfunctory, almost dismissive nod in return. He then smirked across at me and with a grunt tore his shackles clear from the wall. I gawped at him. 

“You could’ve done that the whole time?” I cried, incredulous. I found myself off the bed and clinging to the bars of my cell, unable to tear my eyes away as Omar unlocked the broken cuffs from his wrists. The bloodied shackles fell to the floor. 

“Yes,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, examining his wrists. “The Queen was well aware.” 

“Oh...” Words failed me. I watched as Omar unlocked his ankle shackles. The wounds didn’t appear to be healing much, if at all. He needed blood. I met his gaze again, equal parts surprised and disturbed that I could cobble together some understanding of the Queen’s backward logic. “She wasn’t punishing you,” I said. 

I didn’t like I could make sense of this. While it didn’t necessarily mean I could sympathize with vampires, it did mean that I had been around them enough to understand them. It was a gross realization.

He nodded once. “A test of loyalty.” 

“I think you’ve passed.” I released the bars and took a step back. I guess this was it then. Back to long days and bleak nights. He blurred to my cell and caught my wrist before I could move out of reach. I froze, fear catching with the breath in my throat. 

“Do you trust me?” he whispered. I considered wrenching my wrist from his grasp, but I held still. His touch felt personal. Like there was a secret it wanted to imprint upon my skin. 

“No.” I was proud of how steady and sure I sounded. 

“Good. You shouldn’t,” he quipped, before pulling me towards him and dropping a lightning-fast kiss to my lips. I blinked and he was down the hall, the vampire guard leading him toward the exit. 

I pressed my fingers to my lips. A small bud of hope bloomed inside my chest. I stood watching the exit until the motion lights flicked off. It was silly. I shook my head, trying to shake off the stupor and quashed the hope as quickly as it formed. A fly swat meeting a bug too stupid to get out of the way. There was no place for hope between these cement walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, I know. I didn't really care about chapter length when I was writing this, as I was just writing it for myself! But to tide you over, I'll post another chapter in the next 24hrs.


	6. VI

Three fully-laden trays of food were left for me. Two pitchers of water. The Were guard refused to answer my questions, but he looked at me briefly as he lowered the trays carefully one-by-one to the floor of my cell.

I felt his fear. I saw it in his eyes. I could feel it through to my very bones.

Soon after, the entire assembly of daytime Were guards had left the trenches. I stood at my cell and listened… Waiting. For how long? Would they return? I couldn't measure how much time passed while I stood there. Hundreds of blinks. Thousands of heartbeats. I realized slowly that I could feel vibrations through the metal bars. A low constant rumbling. I also realized I couldn't hear the mental signatures of humans, Weres, or otherwise on the floors above.

A bleak horror began to sink in. I let go of the bars, my hands dropping limply by my sides.

We were alone.

All of us prisoners. Alone. What was happening up there in the real world?

No vampire guards patrolled when night fell. It was just me and the other inmates. After the attempted takeover weeks earlier, the cells had slowly emptied of prisoners again. I could count no more than five other vampire prisoners here with me.

Abandoned in the trenches alongside me.

My appetite was gone. I picked at a bread roll idly. I barely slept a wink. The roaring continued well into the next day. My mind spiraled into dark depths, and my worst fears whispered inside my mind. Was this the end of the world? We'd never been left alone down here. There were always one or two guards at any given time. Even in the day.

The day passed, punctuated by my panicked pacing across my cell and the pounding of my heart. Not long before nightfall, the whir of the air filtration system stuttered out and stopped. But the dull roar from somewhere up above continued. I swung my arms and then each leg out wildly from between the cell bars. The motion lights now failed to work.

A persistent beeping from somewhere down the hall continued on and on and on and on. It echoed across the cement walls and penetrated my mind. A corkscrew winding itself deeper and deeper into my skull. I tugged desperately at my hair. I was going crazy. Crazy Sookie finally lost it. The beeping saturated my sleep that night. Present even in my dreams. Torture. I was losing my grasp of sanity. I cried for Gran. I cried for home. I couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined anymore.

After a fitful rest, I awoke. The air was thick and damp. All the voids further in the trenches were now dull blemishes on my mental radar. It was after daybreak; they were dead for the day.

A new sound slowly permeated from under the maddening beeping: steady trickling. I reached down with my hand to feel the floor. My cot sat in inches of water. My food trays were submerged. My half-eaten bread roll was now sodden and likely floating around my cell somewhere. Shit. I stepped carefully through the dark and flooded cell and found the pitchers of water, thankfully still standing. I carefully placed them on the end of my thin cot mattress.  
I sat cross-legged, hours passing as I listened to the trickling continue. The water level rose slowly yet steadily. My watery grave was coming for me, slowly yet surely. I stood on my bed as the water passed knee level, clutching my precious copy of the book that vampire had given me those months ago. I sang to myself off and on, wiping my tears off with the back of my hands. My singing voice was godawful but the sound of old songs, mostly country ballads, were familiar enough to give me a little comfort.  
I prayed for a swift death. I prayed for a painless death. I considered drowning myself on purpose to avoid prolonging the inevitable. I quickly discounted the notion. I prayed hardest for my family and friends, sending my strength to them and hoping that whatever was happening outside wasn't affecting them too.

I was clinging to the top of the cell bars, treading water, when the vampire minds buzzed back to life with the arrival of nightfall. I didn't hear their cries or moans; they were now all submerged. The water level was two feet from the ceiling, and I was barely keeping afloat, I craned my head back just so I could breathe. My book was long gone. Drowned with the vampires. The water wasn't cold, but cool enough that I had lost feeling in my toes at some point earlier in the afternoon.

I cried until I was hoarse. I cursed the vampires that kept me there. Cursed the guards that didn't set me free. The gall of leaving me plates of food when I was going to die anyway. I cursed vampires for their interest in me. I cursed whatever it was about me that sweetened my blood. My arms were weak from hugging the bars, my legs felt heavy as logs from treading water for so long. I eventually leaned my temple against the bars. Even keeping my head upright was tiring. I could no longer keep forcing my eyes open, so I just let them close.

Not a moment later, thank the Lord, the beeping finally stopped. See? Even in the depths of hell there were still things I could be thankful for. I laughed, the sound, tinged with hysteria, echoed as it bounced off the water. I hung on longer. My thoughts slowed as I became drowsy. Maybe death would find me while I was asleep? I mean, I had been surrounded by darkness for hours. Days. Years. Maybe I could sleep and just melt into the dark and then safely out of existence. I sighed softly. Yes, that I could do.

A cold hand clasped my elbow from below the water's depth and I screamed. The water splashed near me, followed by the rasp of my name being spoken.

"Rasul…" I sobbed in return, recognizing the vampire's exotic Middle Eastern accent. I grabbed onto him through the bars and clung for life, overcome with tears. Talk about the eleventh hour.

"Wait, little one," he said, and he slid from my grasp. I cried out reaching for him in the dark, but he had disappeared beneath the water. I felt a thunk of vibration through the bars and the sliding cell door shifted open beside me. A burst of adrenalin rushed through me, and I swam away from the door so it could open fully. Even weak and nearly dead, hope fueled me with enough strength to tread water again.

My savior returned, and I clung to his back as he swam us toward the exit. I was exhausted; I had no words. I couldn't even form the questions yet. Every molecule of mine simply thrummed with relief.

He instructed me to hold my breath as he dived us down through the exit door and a moment later, we passed through the doors and up the stairs. We were free from the watery trenches. I sucked in great lungfuls of fresh air and sobbed in elation. The air. My God. Clear and so clean. Crisp like after a storm. It was the most satisfying feeling. Each breath stripped away the reality of the horror I'd experienced. I was alive. Rasul carried me at vampire speed up the service stairs. I lay in his arms like a ragdoll. My limbs trembled; my feet numb.

I was upstairs again in the palace. And we were alone. Alone in the building. Alone as far as my mind could stretch around the city block. Alone possibly further than that. Rasul returned me to my old suite, kicking the door open. He laid me carefully on the bed. It was clean and dry.

"What happened?" I rasped. The wind was howling ferociously, and the rain was coming down in a solid static of sound and power.

"I came as soon as I was able. The storm surge has lessened now."

"Storm?" So it wasn't the end of days? The city wasn't under siege? No great monster, no Armageddon? My mind had conjured so many forbidding scenarios. A storm sounded so… Inane.

The room was cloaked in darkness, but I could see the dim glowing outline of his silhouette as he knelt beside the bed. I cupped his cheek in thanks. Rasul was perhaps the kindest of all the vampires I'd ever met here. Part of the Queen's royal guard, he was charming and quietly suave, and full of a sharp humor that I'd never seen in any other vampire… Other than the one I'd once shared a patch of hallway with in the trenches many weeks ago.

"Not just a storm, _ya danaaya_," he responded using an endearment I'd heard from him once before. His usual good cheer was missing. "A terrible hurricane. There has been a mandatory city-wide evacuation. City officials forced the palace evacuation through daylight hours against the Queen's wishes. The city levees are inundated. Not all of them held. Lake Pontchartrain is now flooding into New Orleans. She is 80% underwater." I drew in a sharp breath. The watery depths of below seemed more horrifying now than they had downstairs when I was living through it. I wouldn't be the only one trapped and drowning this evening in The Big Easy. I was lucky to have escaped alive.

He opened the drapes across the window and his silhouette stood out in stark contrast against the black. He moved through the shadows, and I heard the bathroom door open. A moment later he was patting me down with a towel. He helped me to my feet and stood, silent and strong like an old oak, while I leaned upon him, pulling off my wet clothing. His sure hands held open a pair of dry sweats for me step into. I pulled on a tank top and collapsed back onto the bed.

"How were the vampires evacuated through daytime?" I asked when Rasul returned later, armed with a flashlight and food from the kitchen downstairs. I managed to stomach some bread and fruit.

"Packed into travel coffins by the were guards and they were evacuated north."

"Is the Queen okay?"

"The Queen and her children have been out of state. She is trying to advance her claim, wooing Arkansas. Marriage is forthcoming."

My brain stumbled over that tidbit. "But… Didn't he try to kill her?"

He smiled, the shadows cast by the torchlight distorting his features slightly. "Vampire relationships are complex."

I snorted. Didn't I know it.

I slept off and on as the last remnants of the storm passed over. Rasul woke me when it was his time to retire for the day. Were guards were posted at my door. My consciousness was still hazy with sleep as he brought his lips close to my ear. His cool breath tickled as he whispered, "The fire still burns in your eyes, _ya danaaya_. Do not let this fleeting misery snuff out your desire for life. The north man is coming. This is not your forever."

The cryptic words seemed to hang in the air long after he left, their exact meaning lost on me. As the tide of sleep cleared, I struggled to remember his exact wording, but they faded from grasp like a strange dream. I wondered what he meant but decided picking it apart was a wasted effort. Hope was a risk I wasn't willing to let my heart suffer.

It was too cloudy to see the rise of the sun, but I brought my blankets and pillow to the window and wrapped myself in a comfortable cocoon, watching the gradual creep of dawn through the gray.

I opened the fourth story window as wide as it would go and breathed deeply, the air was thick and incredibly humid but wonderful and fresh. Thick wrought iron balustrades encased the window, but these were ornate features intended to protect a person from falling out, rather than cage me in like my cell bars below in the trenches. This difference made me grin like a loon.

Daylight was remarkable. I sat still in awe, willing time to stop. Soft and radiant, it absorbed itself into every object before me. I forgot how pervasive it was, how slowly it crept in early mornings, how it didn't sting like fluorescents did. How forgiving it was. Happiness and relief lit a warm fire within me. I would never again take the outdoors for granted. I would treasure every moment and commit these daylight hours to memory.

I was surprised to see the streets of the French quarter weren't underwater. Even more surprised as I detected the presence of people still in the neighborhood. People hanging on, riding out the storm. As the hours marched on, I heard helicopters pass overhead and the constant wail of sirens in the distance. I didn't move from the window seat all day.


	7. VII.

I turned the book over. It had arrived with my breakfast four nights earlier. I ran my finger, for what must’ve been the thousandth time, across the embossed velvet lettering on the cover. _ The Old Man and the Sea _. Ernest Hemingway. It was an old copy. Hardcover, dust jacket long gone. From a personal collection? The pages curled slightly at the corners; the edges of the paper had faded to a warm sepia tone. 

The story was novella sized, I’d read it three times already and was quickly approaching a fourth. About an old man’s attempt at reeling in a giant fish. But of course, it was about more than that. These sorts of stories always were. I pressed my nose to the pages and breathed deeply. If I were to ascribe every emotion a single scent, this would be the scent of nostalgia. Warm. Comforting. Distant sadness of a better time. 

_ Why? Why had he sent this? _

It had to be him. Couldn’t be anyone else, could it? 

It had been a month since Katrina. I’d despaired and fought when they’d brought me back down to the trenches. Literally. I kicked and screamed like a banshee when Andre had dragged me back to my cell. I felt like I was drowning all over again. He’d had me sedated… And then _it_ happened. I gripped my book tightly and forced the memory from my mind. Nevermind. Nothing I could do about it now. What’s done was done.

There were fewer guards down here now. I’d heard a few snatches from one of the twoey-guard’s minds - the one who'd left me those trays of food. He hadn't wanted to return. He wanted to quit, out of disgust, out of protest. But his home had been destroyed in the storm. He had a family to support. He was trapped here as good as me. The other guards that hadn’t returned to their posts had, by my best guess, just decided it was easier to relocate than come back to New Orleans. In fact, what I could sense of the palace these days seemed to suggest it was mostly empty now. Couldn’t blame them. This city had a long road ahead of her before she was healed.

The day before the vampires had come back to the palace, the power had returned. In my old suite, I’d watched TV, a 24-hour news station, and saw the extent of the damage. Horrific. People died. Thousands upon thousands were displaced. Looting. Lawless streets. Abominable conditions at the evacuation centers. But every time I closed my eyes, I was treading water in my watery grave, head tilted back, clinging to the bars and forcing myself to stay awake. How many breaths until I’d fade and slip under?

God had other plans for me, apparently. Rasul saved me. The vampires returned. And I was back in the cell once more. Even worse, another layer of control had been forced onto me. Andre. 

His blood coated the inside of my skin. Like oil in water. Like cold black ink in my veins. I felt his emotions. Cold and snakey, not a shred of warmth or kindness. Not one cell of his resembled anything close to humanity. Worse still, he felt me too. He could force his emotions onto me. My mind was trapped in prison just as much as my body. Nothing was my own. 

Well, I had one thing. I finished my book just as lunch was brought to my cell. 

“No blood collection tonight,” the guard said. 

“Why not?” I asked, as he passed my tray over. The guard’s eyes landed on my book, which sat face up on my cot. 

“The vamps are at some summit out of state.” 

“All of them?” Andre too?

“Everyone in the Queen’s immediate entourage.” 

I nodded, feeling some sense of relief. I would be left alone for the next few days. It explained why Andre’s presence felt so distant inside me. Almost like he wasn’t there. I wasn’t complaining. The guard turned to leave but paused with his hand on the cell door.

“The Queen is on trial.” 

“What?” I just about choked on the first bite of my meal. He turned back to me, and the snarling color of his emotions ebbed toward something close to pity or mercy. He felt sorry for me. Not sorry enough to do anything but enough to share this bit of palace gossip.

“Her husband was murdered.” 

“She married Arkansas?” Last I’d heard was when Rasul told me she’d been visiting him to try and win him over. That couldn’t have been more than a month ago. “I didn’t know they’d married.”

“They married while everything went to shit here with Katrina. He died the night after their wedding.” 

“Who killed him?” 

He shrugged. “Don’t think it matters.” I was dying to ask more but, of course, he left and all I was left with was my own thoughts and a steak dinner. 

I was jerked from sleep that night by a cold hand gripping my throat. “You knew!” a woman’s voice screeched. My eyes snapped opened; the fluorescents blinding my vision momentarily. I didn’t recognize the woman, her eyes were wild and as black as pitch, her hair short and curly, fangs fully extended. My hands flew to my neck, I struggled against her grip.

“Stop!” I gasped. 

“You planned this,” she hissed. “You knew and you said nothing!” I pushed against her chest, twisting and writhing under her control. She hauled me up from the bed by my neck and slammed me against the cement wall. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I cried, gasping and clutching at her hands on my throat. 

“The Rhodes bombing!” 

The what? The words were gobbledygook. What was she talking about? “Bombing? What bombing?” 

“I’ve heard the whispers. Your psychic abilities. You knew the bombing would happen. You knew what Eric would do—and you said nothing!”

Before I could tell her I had no idea what she was talking about—before I could tell her I had no idea who Eric even was—she vamped me from the cell and upstairs to the Queen’s day room where a group of donors and vampires were huddled around a flat-screen TV, crying and murmuring. They all turned and stared as the dark-haired vampire dragged me in by my prison scrubs and threw me backward. I stumbled over my own feet and fell ass-first into the pool with a splash. 

“She did this!” the vampire screeched. “She killed the queen!” 

I spluttered and pulled myself up over the edge of the pool. “Are you deranged?” I yelled and splashed her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” My gaze darted across the room, looking for a familiar face, or for any kind of fucking context for whatever the heck was even happening. _They’re all dead… _ thought one donor. I recognized her from when I was still living in the palace. _ I bet she did it_, thought another donor giving me the side-eye. _I knew she was a freak the second she arrived here._ I finally caught sight of the TV. It was a live feed. 

_BREAKING NEWS—TERROR ATTACK: Giza Hotel, Rhodes, Wisconsin. At least 150 dead, 210+ injured. Death toll rising. _

“The queen’s dead?” I said lamely. I dragged myself out of the pool and stood dripping. 

“I’ll have your head on a pike,” the vampire continued, stalking toward me. “You committed treason. You assassinated Louisiana’s royalty and countless others of our kind.” 

“How? I’ve been locked in a cell the whole time!” 

“Your powers. I know you knew. You knew what would happen and said nothing.” 

My mouth worked uselessly as I tried to come up with a cogent response. My mind was blank. 

“Just try an deny it!” she said. “You cannot tell me it’s merely coincidence that Eric wrangled your freedom the night before the Fellowship brought the hotel crashing down!” I caught an image from her mind, like a flash in the pan; like plunging into a pit filled with snakes. No thoughts, just a grisly tableau. Bloody and headless, she was picturing eviscerating me. I slipped out of her mind as quickly as I’d fallen in. Shock permeated on an even deeper layer. I’d never been privy to the thoughts of a vampire before.  
The vampire stepped forward then, and I began side-stepping around the pool away from her. 

“You’re wrong,” I said emphatically. “I have no idea who Eric is. I’m not even psychic! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I kept backing away. One step at a time. One step at a time. Slow and measured. Running was a fool’s game. I’d never outrun a vampire. Especially not one fantasizing about disemboweling me. 

“Leave her alone, Arla,” another vampire said. He stood at the edge of the group. He, I remembered. This was the guy that kidnapped me from Bon Temps. Bill. Stupid vampire name. Stupider haircut. “She’s no psychic.” He offered me a faint smile. 

“Damn straight,” I snapped. “Otherwise I’d woulda been waiting in the parking lot with a stake the night you came for me.” That made his face drop. 

Arla appeared not to hear Bill, her eyes taking on an unnatural glint, and she continued to advance, backing me into the corner, until I was pressed against a small statue. I was trapped. My hands reached out behind me, hoping beyond all reason I might find some secret weapon lying hidden. A convenient stake. A knife. A knitting needle. I wasn’t fussy. But all I could feel was the cool smooth curves of the Greek goddess cut from marble. The queen had a thing for the female form, so I’d bet the marble woman was no doubt nude. Arla loomed over me. 

“I am now the highest in command currently residing in the state,” she said. Her pink tongue snaked out to whet her bottom lip. “And I think I want to see why it is that Sophie-Anne was so intent on keeping you squirreled away. Maybe you’re not psychic… But you are something. She wouldn’t be keeping you the way she does just because she likes the taste of you. Not even delicious blood can be worth the bother.” Her fangs shone in the artificial daylight. I had no idea what she was alluding to. Why else would Sophie hold me?

“You can’t do that… I’m Andre’s,” I said, shrinking down to appear smaller.

“Andre’s dead.” 

“He is?” I barely had time to comprehend this before Arla was on me, her fangs in me. I screamed. My feet, wet with pool water, slipped forward on the marble floor and I slipped back, Arla with me, onto the statue. It came toppling down, shattering with an astounding crack that echoed across the room like a clap of thunder. I didn’t think. I acted.

I grabbed a large piece of marble and bashed her over the head. She tore her fangs free of my neck with a feral cry and grabbed my arm, but I’d anticipated that. I brought down another marble chunk with my other hand and cracked it across the temple. She slumped back momentarily stunned. Like a deranged dog I jumped on her with a triumphant scream. If this was how I died, fine! I wouldn’t be anyone’s any longer. I was no plaything. I wasn’t a toy or a curio or a piece of meat or a prisoner! I’d die by my own terms. The scream that tore from my throat was unrecognizable. It wasn’t my voice, it was the voice of a beast, an animal in its death throes. I smashed Arla’s skull again and again until it was a bloody, messy pulp, and I staggered to my feet. 

“Get away from me,” I yelled, brandishing my two bloody marble chunks in front of me. “I’ll kill you all!” 

The entire group were agog in horror. A few of the donors whimpered and stepped back in fear. I panted, my gaze darting between them all. Then, when it was clear no one, not even Bill, was going to do anything, I staggered past them. Blood dripped from my neck, Arla’s from my hands. Pool water left a messy trail behind me. 

My prison guard was making his way up the hallway to the dayroom and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. 

“The queen’s dead,” I said, my voice hoarse. “So don’t think about fucking touching me.” 

He lifted up his hands, palms out, wary of me like I was a spooked horse. He let me pass. 

I dropped my marble rocks at the top of the stairs that lead to the trenches and walked down the steps slowly. My heels hit against the cold cement, strange resolute thuds echoing like a war drum. I walked to my cell and retrieved my book. I flinched when I caught sight of my hands. It wasn’t just Arla’s blood. Mine too. I’d cut them on the marble pieces. The blue fabric book cover smeared with blood as I lifted a hand away to examine it. No matter. It’d heal. I wiped Arla’s blood into my neck wound to seal it over.

I turned and walked the path out of the trenches. This would be the last time. I would never come back. I’d rather risk certain death than spend a second longer here. I passed through the hallway and foyer alone. I sensed the minds around me, hovering in the outer rooms, up on the mezzanine floor, watching from the shadows. A couple of vampires, some humans and weres. 

“Sookie?” 

I faltered and looked toward the sound. It was the blonde vampire. He was dressed in a suit, as was the rotund kindly-looking man to his right. This man held a briefcase and his suit vest barely managed to button together at his waist. At least I think he was a man. His mind felt foreign to me and was filled with static. And to say they looked shocked to see me was like saying Mary Magdalene looked shocked to see Jesus rise on Sunday. 

“Are you Eric?” I asked my vampire friend. He nodded very slowly—and warily, I might add. 

“You’re bleeding,” said the man beside him. 

“It’s my blood,” I snarled. “You can’t have it.” I continued my path through the foyer and pushed opened the heavy palace doors. The night air met me, like the waiting arms of a long-lost friend. Like the first kiss of cool rain on a humid day. Like it had been waiting patiently for me this whole time; I just had to come. Tears obscured my vision.

Eric was suddenly behind me, taking the weight of the door from my hands. “She’s fine,” he told the two guards stationed at the door. I walked the granite path to the street. It was lined with a strange type of flowering palm that leaned over the path like a makeshift tunnel. When I reached the main gate, I didn’t hesitate. I pressed the buzzer and the locked disengaged with a click. I stepped out into the real world and pressed my toes hard against the scratchy surface of the concrete footpath. 

I would walk barefoot forever if I could. I couldn’t wait to dig my feet in soft earth. Scrape my feet in the rutted dirt road of my driveway at home. Work my toes into the ancient, raggedy rug in the living room. 

“Is Arla a friend of yours?” I asked Eric. He’d let the gate swing shut and he was out on the street with me. 

“Arla Yvonne?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “I killed Arla.” I didn’t know who she was. His eyes flashed. And not in an unhappy sort of way. 

“She’s Sheriff of Area 2.” 

_“Was.” _

“Indeed,” he said and smiled darkly. 

“Thanks for the book,” I said and lifted it a little. 

“You liked it?” 

“Very.” And then I smiled too. 

“Memorized it yet?” 

“Only the good bits.” 

“Such as?” We began walking. I had no idea where or in which direction. I really rather didn’t care. I really rather deliriously didn’t care. 

“But man is not made for defeat,” I quoted. “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.” 

He chuckled a little, and took off his suit jacket, folding it over his arm. “I don’t think Hemingway knew the grit of a good woman. If he had, I imagine he would’ve revised that line.” 

“Well, I didn’t know either until tonight.” 

“I knew it the second I first saw you.” 

I scoffed. “Grit or not, I hope you’re taking me somewhere with a shower and fresh change of clothes.” 


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I originally wrote this as an 8 chapter story. If you've read any of my other stuff you'll know my tendency to wrap up a story loosely and then finish with one last chapter that set forward in time where I tie everything neatly with a bow. So chapter 7 was intended as the 'loose ending' and this chapter was meant to be the 'time-skip'. _Buuuuut..._ As I began posting this fic I started adding to it like crazy, filling in the time between now and the skip. I've got another 8 chapters written. I'll just keep posting them and when my muse fades for this story I'll have the final chapter ready to cap it off. Thanks for your continued support, you guys rock.

Fries. Collard greens. Chicken fried steak. A pitcher of sweet tea. And people. Regular folk all around us. In the city for a night out. Locals out to dinner with friends and family. People trying to establish a sense of normality in the aftermath of Katrina. I left my shields down. The sound was chaotic. It filled my brain up like someone had shaken up a can of soda and opened it.

Eric had the sense to let me eat in silence. The diner was old school, one of those local institution-type places. I bounced a little on the red vinyl booth seats, bubbling with excitement. The vinyl felt tacky under my legs and the old pokey springs squeaked with every movement. There wasn't concrete flooring here. There was no hard cot. There weren't the plush silks and luxury linens of the palace. It was just regular old diner seating and worn vinyl floors. I licked the grease off my fingers and then wiped them off on the napkin. Eric sipped his Tru Blood, regarding me contemplatively.

"Would you like to hear a story?" he said, swirling the blood around in his bottle.

"I don't know if I need to anymore," I said with a smile.

"I think this one you will want to hear." He waggled his brows.

"Is it about how the Queen died?"

"She didn't die," he said, humor fading. I lowered my glass to the table, a deep sense of doom settling like a pit in my stomach.

"What do you mean? Arla said she'd died at the summit."

"Sophie-Anne escaped during the daytime as the bombs were detonating. She is injured, yet lives on."

"What? How? What about Andre?" I whispered. Eric reached to take my hand, but I slid it away.

"Andre is dead." The weight of things unsaid hung in the air between us. I searched his eyes for a long moment and then slowly, bit by bit, erected my poor old, out-of-use shields. It lowered the swell of voices in my mind from the patrons around me. Why did the Queen survive and not Andre?

"Were you at the bombing?" I asked and when he shook his head, I sighed in resignation and gestured with my hand. "Fine. Tell me the story, then."

"The man you saw me with earlier tonight is Desmond Cataliades. He serves as the Queen's attorney."

"The attorney who helped her with her murder trial?"

"Yes, though not technically a murder trial. Jennifer Cater, Threadgill's second, filed a suit against the Queen. She alleged that Sophie-Anne lured Threadgill into marriage specifically to assassinate him. As a ruse to claim the throne as her own. Cater was unsuccessful. Sophie-Anne was quite pleased with the ruling, as you can imagine. Arkansas is rightfully hers now." He paused to take a sip from his drink. "Then my name was called next on the court docket."

"What do you mean?" I said, suspicions, hopes, forming in my mind. "Why did you go before the court?"

"I was presented with an opportunity. One that could secure your freedom, but it was a risky shot."

"I need specifics." I still didn't know if I could trust him. But somehow that didn't matter. The things that concerned me now were beyond trust. I'd grabbed a hunk of marble not one hour earlier and fought for my freedom, then washed off the dead vampire's blood in a hotel shower like it was Christmas morning. I lost my capacity for fear. I trusted myself. I got things done. Other people didn't matter. The only person that mattered now was me. I just needed to know how the chess pieces moved around me so I could plan my next steps. "C'mon, spit it out," I said and, waving my fries for emphasis before popping them in my mouth.

"Sophie-Anne broke laws by having you kidnapped. More than one. You were taken from my area, and I was never informed as per protocol. Further, she broke human laws by keeping you imprisoned. Other laws too. I gave testimony to the ancient vampire who presides over matters for the American clans."

"And..?" I said cautiously, though I thought I knew the answer already if Arla was to be believed.

"She ordered your release. The lawyer and I left Rhodes immediately last night to return here and see it done. We missed today's attacks. The vampires in attendance with me at the summit left also, on the chance that Sophie-Anne decided to retaliate. Tit-for-tat, as you would say." He winked.

"She'd do that? Kill vampires from her own territory just to get back at you?" It struck me how lucky it was that Eric had stuck his neck out for me. He could've been counted among the dead at Rhodes. His people too.

"No. She suffered a loss of face though, and she may try to kill me since my testimony led to Andre's death."

"Explain." I made room on the table as the waitress brought over the selection of cakes and pies for my dessert. My eyes were far too big for my stomach, but I didn't give a hoot. I'd ordered everything I'd been missing for the last two and a half years.

"Andre told the Oracle, our judge, he was bonded to you. I think he was trying to assert the Queen's claim. Foolish move, on his part. I didn't know if it was truth, but I can scent his blood in you now." His face darkened, nostrils flaring. "I'm only sorry you weren't there to see him beheaded."

"He was sent to death because we were bonded?" I was sorry I missed it too. I hoped it hurt like hell, and I hoped Queen Sophie-Anne was devastated.

Eric gave me a look like I was a little slow. "I know you haven't been given much reason to see vampires in a good light, Sookie. But we have rules and are bound by honor and tradition. Bonding must strictly be consensual by both parties. I'm sure you can understand why. I saw how he treated you. I told the judge as much. Nothing about your relationship was consensual."

I grimaced. "I think story-time is over now." Being bonded with Andre had been hell, but I knew it could've been much worse.

"Very well." He leaned back and his expression lightened. "Personally, I'm more interested to see if you're capable of eating all this food." For the first time that night, I saw the same vampire I'd shared a patch of hallway with down in the trenches. His eyes shone with mischief like he had all the time in the world. Like he had all the time in the world and intended to spend it doing only the most enjoyable things. He was the most alive vampire I'd ever met. More alive than most humans.

"Are you challenging me?" I asked, picking up my fork. "I don't think you know what I'm capable of."

"I have some idea," he said charmingly. I rolled my eyes at him and he chuckled. We'd found a sense of ease between us, Eric and I. Actually, we hadn't found it. It was naturally there. It had been from the start. After I ate my fill, I had our server load up two bags worth of leftovers to take back the hotel. I made Eric carry it. We wandered the streets slowly on the way back. He told me of how thing were in Northern Louisiana. Thankfully it'd been unaffected by the hurricane. He'd had one of his trusted vampires get in contact with Gran. She was fine and still just as clueless about the reality of my circumstances. While I was grateful she didn't know any of the horror I'd experienced the last two years, it made my heart ache to think she'd been oblivious this whole time. It ached to think we'd been apart for so long and, thanks to the Queen's machinations, it rendered Gran unable to even care that we hadn't even spoken. Gran would've moved heaven and earth to get me back. When I told Eric as much, he said he could remove the glamor if I wished him to. I declined. Some truths were too painful to lay bare. Let her believe I'd been getting a college education.

"Are you psychic?" Eric asked as I unlocked the door to the hotel room. Just as with my dinner, he'd purchased the room for me on the Queen's dime.

I leaned back against the door jamb and smiled indulgently at him. "That's certainly quite the rumor floating around about me."

"I don't think it's just a rumor." Eric stepped close, so close I could smell the faint scent of laundry powder on his clean shirt. I froze in place as he slowly tucked a lock of my hair away behind my ear. "At dinner, you began clearing space for dessert, even though you had your back to the waitress and couldn't see her coming."

"Good hearing." I caught his hand as it lingered near my cheek, poised ready to stroke my skin.

"I think not," he said and continued, "when we were in the cells you knew when the guards were coming before they even moved from their stations." His hand in my own wasn't as cool as I expected it to be. Warmed by the humid southern night. I held it in place near my cheek, his fingers twisted in mine. They were loose, pliable, waiting for me to move them.

"If I told you I wanted to go home and never be bothered by a vampire again for the rest of my life, could you make that happen?"

"Absolutely," he said, an eyebrow lifting at the change in subject. "Though I might say it was ill-advised."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm a vampire."

"You intend to bother me?"

"I intend to bother you very much." He was serious.

"What if I said no."

"I would respect your wishes. Grudgingly," he added with a caddish grin.

"Is that why you rescued me?" I asked. "Surely in all your life, you've seen humans trapped by awful circumstances. You went to a lot of effort. You stuck your neck out for me. You called out your Queen in front of your peers." It was a lot of effort just for a roll in the hay with a mortal girl.

"You are something more, Sookie."

"Right. My special blood." I let go of his hand and it dropped between us.

"Your spirit," he said. "Your resilient nature. I don't know what it is exactly. But I couldn't return to my life and just let it go. An opportunity presented itself and so I took it. I see something in you that I see in myself."

I nodded slowly. I think I knew what he meant. We were different in many, probably most, ways. But somehow there was something shared. Like a bird from above watching a whale swim through the ocean. The bird recognized that the whale flew through the water in the same way the bird flew through the air. We didn't quite understand each other but our similarities were there on a base level.

"I'm not psychic. But I am different. I hear the thoughts of humans." His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Which was the vampire equivalent of an over-the-top gasp.

"Does Sophie-Anne know?"

"She suspected initially, people in my hometown used to talk about what I freak I was. But I gave her no proof the rumors were true. I can't read vampires, and she would've worked that out quickly enough." I shrugged, trailing off. In the end, it was my blood that held enough of her interest to keep me locked away. Now that I thought of it in those terms, it did sound very strange. Why go to such effort? Was it really because I couldn't be glamoured? It seemed a little much.

Eric seemed to come to the same conclusion as me. "Did you ever see the Queen drink the blood she had Andre take from you?"

"No. Have you?" I asked. He shook his head. "Do you think it passed my powers onto her?"

"Doubtful."

Out in the warm night, the St Louis Cathedral began chiming on the hour. Eric's gaze held steadfastly to mine. "It's still early. We leave now, I can have you home by dawn."

"Really?" I said. A match struck inside my chest, igniting a flurry of excitement.

"Unless you want to spend another night in the city?"

"Are you kidding me? Get me the heck outta here."

Eric reached past me to pull the hotel door shut, but I stopped him. I ran in and grabbed my copy of The Old Man and the Sea from the bed and scooped up my prison scrubs from the bathroom floor.

"What do you need those for?" Eric asked, nodding toward the bloodied prison clothes. I couldn't suppress my wide, beaming smile.

"When I get home, I'm going to light a bonfire and watch them burn."


	9. IX

“Sookie, honey, pass your brother the salad.” Gran touched my elbow, and I jumped a mile. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d finished saying grace. I apologized and passed it along to Jason, who was already busy talking about some crisis at work with a motor grader that died halfway through a job. He’d had to ring around half the parish before finding the right part to get it going. He got excited when he talked about this kind of stuff, so Gran and I indulged him by feigning as much interest as possible.

“You feeling okay?” Gran asked me. “You’re looking more pale than usual.” She placed a cool hand to my forehead and tutted. “You’re not hot, but all that lost sleep is doing you no good.” 

“Leave her alone,” Jason said, waving a fork my way. “She’s a city girl now. She knows how to look after herself. Two years on the east coast’s given that city attitude now, ain’t it, Sook? Pale and brooding, and what not.”

“Something like that,” I said with a hum and helped myself to the glazed ham. Gran patted my hand sympathetically; she wasn’t sure why I’d been so pale and withdrawn after coming home from “college” though she had a few ideas. “I think I might sunbake this afternoon,” I told her with a smile.

I tried to keep up with the conversation between them both over lunch. Gran filled us in on the local gossip; apparently, Everlee Mason was having it off with Stu Dixon, who wasn’t married but recently widowed and, apparently, it was much too recent for it to be considered acceptable. I sunk into the familiarity of the scene. It was one we’d experienced many times in many iterations in the time before I’d been taken. Jason stopping in unannounced for lunch. Hearing the gossip and catching up over a shared meal. But now I felt like an impostor, watching from the outside. My life from before felt so disconnected to me and me from it.

There was the trenches and then there was now. The before time was a hazy dream.

“Now tell Crystal I’m making good progress on that quilt,” Gran told Jason as she packed him the leftovers into a container for him. 

“I will. I’m sure she’ll love it, Gran.” Jason said, giving her a hug and divesting her of the container. “She said she’ll get a chance to have y’all over for dinner this week now the morning sickness is settling. I told her what you said about Momma being exactly the same way when she was pregnant with me. It’s definitely going to be a boy.” He was busting with pride already. I had no doubts he was going to make a great father. I still wasn’t sure about Crystal. They’d had a shotgun wedding a few weeks earlier when she discovered she was pregnant. She was a were of some description, which was neither here nor there, but there was something about her that I just didn’t like. 

I did the dishes after Jason left while Gran took a nap, and I got stuck into some deep cleaning that Gran hadn’t had chance to get to while I was gone. After, I spent a couple hours sunbaking on the front lawn with a historical romance. I’d been reading it at the time I was kidnapped, so it seemed fitting to pick up where I left off. I began from where I’d left my bookmark but was completely lost so went back to the beginning. My mind wandered off halfway through the first chapter, so I set it down on the lawn. It was nice just taking in the familiarity of the garden, being able to soak up the goodness from the sunshine. I’d only been home for a week and a half. Everything still felt new. I still felt removed from life here. My eyes wandered toward the forest and on a whim, I threw my cotton sundress over my bikini and set off into the woods wearing only flip-flips for shoes. 

I hiked up the big hill to the crest I’d once camped on with Tara. I was puffing and heaving by the time I got to the top, but I felt good. I felt alive. Vital. Rather than facing east, I turned west and climbed up to the first branch of an old spindly pine. The thick bark scraped my knees, but I didn’t care. I leaned against the warm trunk and watched the sun set slowly in deep, vivid shades of orange. 

I was so happy to be home, but I felt like I was an actress just pretending to play a part. It wasn't what I expected. I'd thought it would be more like… well, actually, I didn’t know what I’d thought it would be like. That what—I’d just slip back into normal life like nothing happened? I don’t think I ever thought it through this far. Coming home had been a pipedream, I never expected it to happen. Never anticipated what would happen if I did.

When I got back to the house, Gran was bustling around ready to go to a Descendants meeting and instructed me to reheat some casserole in the oven for my own dinner.   
“Why don’t you see what Tara is up to? She’s been missing you,” Gran said, lifting her car keys off the hook by the porch door. 

“Maybe,” I said absently. I’d forgotten Gran was heading out that night. It was my first night alone. We’d been spending every evening on the couch watching television together and I’d been counting on it. Counting on the normalcy of it. Gran gave me a worried look and a tight hug before leaving. I lost myself in the warmth of her embrace and her thoughts, which were focused mostly on her concerns and love for me—and getting to her meeting on time. 

“Whoever he is, he isn’t worth it, Sookie,” she said, when we parted. “If he can’t see how amazing you are then there’s clearly something not right with him in the head.” 

“Oh, Gran…” I said, my eyes filling with tears. She thought I’d dropped out of college because of a broken heart. How could I tell her there was no ‘he’ and the only person with something not right in the head was me?

Soon enough I had the house to myself. I wandered the rooms. Dusted the display cabinet in the living room. Folded some laundry. I showered and sat at my vanity table, first brushing and then blow-drying my hair. It had grown a lot longer in my time away. It was in dire need of a trim; even Gran had chastised me when she’d seen it. My skin had more color now from my afternoon in the sun, at least. Though I could see what Gran was saying. I looked tired. Rings under my eyes, my eyes distant. Sleep was proving difficult now I was home. Funny, really, since I could practically sleep on command when I was imprisoned. Now it was all nightmares and insomnia. C’est la vie. 

I went to climb into bed to give my romance novel another try but stopped at my window instead. I’d opened it a crack earlier in the day to let some air in, and now I pulled it all the way up. The breeze was humid and fragrant from the sweet jasmine that grew over the garden trellis in the yard. The moon hung like a lantern in the sky, it’s edges crisp and defined and the stars around it bright as gems. Brighter than I remembered. 

There was so much from life in Bon Temps I needed to remember. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d forgotten. The way the screen door creaked, the sounds of the garbage truck rumbling along Hummingbird Road just before dawn, the soft map of wrinkles on Gran’s face. Heck, even the simple things, like where all the groceries were located in the grocery store. I wondered how long before the things I’d forgotten from here would be outweighed by the things I’d forgotten from my time in Sophie’s palace. 

Maybe I did need to call Tara. I needed to make more memories. I needed to get out of my head. 

I went into the kitchen and picked up the phone before I realized I’d forgotten her phone number too. The dial tone hummed, and at a loss I hung the receiver back in its cradle. Oh, for Pete’s sake. I felt like I was living in the twilight zone! I had to get out of the house. 

I marched to my bedroom and flung open the closet door, switching on the light. I took off my nightie and got dressed into a clean bra and underpants. The bra clipped up on the smallest set of hooks and the elastic waistband on my panties sat loosely. I hadn’t realized until arriving home I’d lost weight, but evidently so. Previously, I would’ve been happy about shedding some extra pounds, but now it just angered me. One more thing about me that was different. 

Didn’t matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t go back in time and pick up my life where it left off. Heck, I couldn’t even manage to do it with my book. A sob slipped past my lips in a strangled gasp. 

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on breathing slowly. I so badly wished to talk about it with Gran, with anyone, to let go of this sense of confusion. I didn’t know how. Or if I even could. I let out all of my breath out in a resolute huff. I thought I knew who though. 

I rifled through my closet, trying to find something suitable to wear. I pulled out a sundress of mine I’d only ever worn once or twice. It was a white number with little red flowers and quite revealing. I passed over it with a little laugh—I could only imagine what vampires would think if they saw in me in that. I chose another sundress, this one navy with a sweetheart neckline. I pulled on a pair of white strappy sandals and then put on a little makeup, pushing my hair back with a white headband. I left a note for Gran and checked the yellow pages for the address. Then I set off into the night.


	10. X

It was a Thursday night and the line to Fangtasia was still ten people long. I waited in the queue and when I got close to the front, I realized with a start that the doorperson was the blonde vampire with Eric that first night I’d seen him in the trenches. She was dressed in an over-the-top Elvira-style dress, all black with an impossibly tight corset and long lacy sleeves that trailed to the ground. 

“On your own, doll face?” she said, holding out an impatient hand. She was the one with a doll face, her every feature delicate as if sculpted purposefully by an expert hand and, to top it off, she had a British accent.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and handed my ID over, nerves bubbling behind the façade of my forced smile. She inhaled then, and her eyes widened a fraction. She looked up at me and down at the ID and back up at me again. 

“My, my, my. Don’t you scrub up nicely? No cover for you,” she said. She unhooked the rope. She leaned to whisper in my ear as I passed by her: “Front and center. You won’t miss him.” 

The bar was full, the thumping bassline from the music throbbed through the heels of my sandals. I’d never been to Fangtasia before and only knew of it peripherally from some of the waitresses at Merlotte’s. I’d never had the inclination to check it out. Coming tonight was honestly a total impulse. The bar was painted in alternating panels of black, deep red, and gray. Large framed posters hung all over the walls depicting every fictional vampire that has ever graced the big or small screen, illuminated by kitsch red candelabras fitted with tiny electric lights. A rock-and-roll version of Patti Smith’s Because the Night was playing over the speakers and the bar was positively bustling. I had to laugh a little. This was a tourist bar for humans, not a vampire bar for vampires. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. I made my way to the bar, noting the ‘Strictly no feeding on premises’ sign hung beside the bottles of spirits on the back wall. 

“Hey sugar, what’s your poison?” asked the waitress, human, from behind the black lacquered bar. I ordered a gin and tonic and sat on the stool closest to me. I turned to look out at the dancefloor. The ratio between humans and vampires was easily 10 to 1, and the humans that were here varied between groupies, gazing with longing at the few beautiful vampires that wandered the floor like celebrities, and tourists who looked like they’d stepped off a Greyhound on their way to the next tourist trap. One lady, with a camera around her neck, was gushing with her friend over her bag of purchases from the gift shop I’d passed on my way in; they were giggling over a set of windup vampire teeth.

Two very different types of clientele, but the thing they had in common was sickening: the star-struck attitude they held toward vampires. 

I wondered how quickly their opinion would change if I told them the truth about their fellow fanged brethren. I wanted to walk up and shake the shoulders of an older woman who was getting a photo with a dark-haired Mediterranean-looking vampire. The vampire had to be no more than five feet tall without her heeled boots on, and she radiated pure fury. She could kill the woman in a blink. Lord knows she looked like she wanted to. How did they not realize this? Why were they treating them like celebrities? 

I realized I was squeezing my glass tightly and loosened my grip. I shouldn’t have come here. I forced myself to take a sip, though, and my gaze traveled further on into the dancefloor. 

_Front and center, indeed._

On a small stage at the end of the dancefloor, Eric sat sprawled on a preposterous gold throne, his blond hair hanging loose like a curtain around his face. His expression was that of pure boredom, despite there being a throng of people crowding the section of stage directly in front of him. One groupie - a middle-aged man in a business suit - climbed the stage and pawed at Eric’s legs. I gasped as Eric kicked him away without so much as blinking. Yep. Coming here was a bad idea. I gulped back my drink. What was I even thinking? I hopped off the seat and set my glass down on the bar harder than I intended to. 

Eric’s chin lifted suddenly, and I knew I’d been spotted. Damn it. A few heads turned in his little crowd to check what caught his interest; and I shifted uneasily on the spot, adjusting the strap of my purse. I wondered if it was too late to turn around and walk out. Buck up, Stackhouse. You’ve dealt with worse. I steeled my resolve and lifted my hand in a small wave. Eric lifted his hand as if to summon me with a flick of his fingers. 

Outrage, like a white-hot bolt, coursed through me. If he summoned me like that then I really would turn around and just march right out of here. He instead gestured with his hand toward a roped off booth left of stage, and I nodded, shoulders deflating with relief. 

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon,” he said, once I joined him. 

“Neither did I,” I said, smoothing the skirt of my dress into place as I sat. A waitress in a tight leather skirt and a halter top that barely covered her breasts arrived with a tray containing a bottle of Tru Blood and another gin and tonic for me.

“Can I get you anything else, Master?” The waitress leaned over the table to place his bottle down, but mostly to just show off just how much her outfit didn’t cover and to stroke her neck seductively. I stared studiously at my drink, disgust settling like a lump of coal in my stomach. 

“We’re fine.” He shooed her away with a flick of the hand and she retreated. “So, what do you think of my bar?” 

“It’s very popular,” I said with as much pragmatism as I could muster. 

“True, though that’s an observation, not your opinion.”

Oh, fudge. I considered carefully how to respond.

“Look. This isn’t really the type of place I would personally patronize.” I took a sip of my drink, and Eric laughed, turning nearby heads. 

“Yet here you are,” he said. 

“Here I am.” The question of ‘why’ hung in the air between us, so I hurried to fill the space. “It’s been great to be home again. But I guess I didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be to adjust, especially when everyone at home thinks I left town for a very different reason. So, I came to ask a request of you.” 

“You’d like me to undo the glamour?” he surmised. I nodded. “Of everyone in your town? Bill was quite thorough in his efforts to ensure you were gone without any questions.”

“No, just my gran. I think as long as there’s one person who knows… it won’t be so difficult.”

Eric agreed to assist me, and we fell into mutual silence, though he seemed perfectly satisfied to just sit there and count my eyelashes. I tried to look everywhere else but at him.  
“What are they thinking?” he asked, nodding to the crowd.

“Do you care?”

He shrugged. “Not particularly, though I find myself curious to know what you hear.”

I slid from my seat and scooted around to sit next to Eric, which seemed to delight him. He leaned against me and wrapped his arm against the back of our seat essentially boxing me in place. 

“Sex,” I said pointing to a girl dancing seductively with a thin vampire who was practically salivating over her neck. I then began pointing at each patron one-by-one. “Sex with vampires. More sex. Drugs and sex. That guy is thirsty. And he’s thinking about work. Her shoes are pinching her heels, but she wants that guy to pay attention to her, so she’s going to keep dancing. What she doesn’t realize is that guy is actually thinking about screwing that guy over there. Then sex. Sex with you. That one’s considering coming over to make a play at you. And she’s remembering sex with you.” I felt my cheeks blazing. The memory was positively lewd and the sex animalistic. “I think you get the picture.”

His laugh was a low rumble of distant thunder. “Unsurprisingly predictable.” 

“I’m sure vampires are just as predictable in their own way,” I mused, thinking back to that flash I’d received from Arla before I’d killed her. I shuffled outside the range of his touch and finished the remainder of her drink. Playing on the speakers was KDED, the local vampire radio station, and Carla the Corpse introduced the next song: Frank Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night. Eric took me by the hand and led me to the dancefloor. 

I’d never experienced sustained skin contact with a vampire, and I found myself leaning into his touch as we moved around the dancefloor. It was such a gift to touch someone without being assailed by their thoughts. Maybe his thoughts mirrored Arla’s, who knew? But the fact I couldn’t know, would never know, only added to my enjoyment.

“In return for assisting you with your grandmother, I wish to ask you a favor,” he said, lowering his head so that he spoke directly into my ear. I felt a ripple of nerves, anticipation, and fear run down my spine. I had a vision of him leading me to the back office I’d seen in the girl’s thoughts on the dancefloor. 

“What’s that?” I whispered back.

“I wish for you to read my human staff.” 

My thoughts stopped short as if I’d been doused with cold water. I mulled the proposition over. 

“I think that’s fair,” I said carefully. “Provided I can keep my abilities secret. I don’t want anyone to know what I can do.”

“Other than me,” Eric said, pressing me closer to him. Of course.

“Tonight?” 

Eric shook his head. “I’d like to call all my staff in. I don’t open on Mondays. Would that work?” 

“I’ll have to check my calendar. I think I’m covering dinner shift that night, but Merlotte’s generally closes early on Mondays from memory, so I could get here about 10.”

“Merlotte’s? The bar run by that shifter?” 

I nodded. “I used to work there once upon a time. Sam offered me my job back. I start on Saturday.” I knew Sam was a twoey of some sort, though I hadn’t worked it out until I’d arrived at the palace and discovered the existence of weres and shifters. Their minds were very distinctive. It was a little exciting to imagine him as a shifter. I'd only heard of them, not met them - well, not met them knowingly. 

“10 o’clock Monday it is then,” Eric said. He spun me in time with the music. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. And I was too, he was a great lead. We finished the dance, and he led me back to the booth by the hand. “Another drink?” 

“I’d better not. I’m driving home. But I’ll have ginger ale, if you have it.” 

“Of course.” He called over the waitress from before, who was now shooting me daggers. She returned with another blood for Eric and my order. Apparently, it was most unusual for her boss to keep female company for this long out in the bar. He typically just took them into the back to do… other things. Eric the lothario. Unsurprising by the way he conducted himself on stage or even on the dancefloor – large and in charge. I washed down my discomfort with the first sip of my drink. I’d only spent a small amount of time with Eric. A fraction, really. In highly unusual circumstances. My perception of him wasn’t fully formed. I wasn’t surprised so much as… unsure that I liked what I saw.

“Bill sent me a petition to return to Bon Temps.” 

“What?” I said, spluttering on my drink. 

“His ancestral home neighbors your property. He asked to come back in order to restore it in preparation for sale.” I'd known Bill was a relation of our old neighbor Jesse Compton. Jesse had not long been dead when Bill had first arrived in town. 

“I hope you said no!”

“I took great enjoyment in doing so.”

“Why couldn’t he have gone to Rhodes?” I said sourly. Eric remained quiet, and I felt suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry. That was a disgusting thing for me to say. I don’t really mean that.” I’d been following the fall-out on the news. The losses had crept up to nearly 500, both human and vampires, so I imagined a portion of them had been from our state. And of course, twoeys were lost too but they weren’t out of the “closet” yet, so to speak, and were counted among the humans. The only silver lining of the bombings had been the resulting upswell of vampire-rights supporters and the public outcry for the Fellowship of the Sun to be declared a terrorist organization. It looked like the legislation might even pass. 

“It was indeed awful. I was very lucky to miss it all.”

“Did you lose many friends?”

“Friends?” he said. “Vampires don’t have friends.” 

“You’re joking. That can’t be right. You mean to tell me y’all live forever and never make a single friend in that time?” 

“We have allies. Associates. Those we socialize with when the need calls for it at official events.”

“Potato po-tah-to.”

“Pardon?”

“That sounds an awful lot like y’all have friends, to me.”

“Eh, potato po-tah-to,” he said with a casual shrug, and I burst out laughing. Touché. “Are we friends, Sookie?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. He had been a friend to me when I’d desperately needed one in the trenches. Now I wasn’t so sure. Things were different on the outside. My whole life. And me.

“You know, it occurs to me that you didn’t need to show up in person to ask for my help. I’d already offered to undo your grandmother’s glamour. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t just call. Instead you chose to dress up and visit me at my establishment.”

I froze in place, mouth running dry. 

“Why Sookie, did you come here just to enjoy my company?” It was his turn to laugh now, while I turned beet-red. “Come,” he said, standing and offering me his arm. “One last dance and then take me to your grandmother.”


	11. XI

Gran was up waiting for me in the kitchen, reading her book in her dressing gown. I let myself in through the mud porch since I’d parked my little Malibu around the back, and invited Eric into the kitchen after me. 

“Hey,” I said, brushing a kiss to Gran’s cheek. “You didn’t need to wait up.” 

“I wanted to. How was your night?” She peered over her shoulder. “Who’ve you got there, Sookie?”

“Gran, this is Eric Northman. My friend.” I shot him a small smile over my shoulder. “Eric and I know each other through…” I trailed off not exactly knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Through her time away,” Eric smoothly answered. Clearly a much more seasoned liar than myself. Gran’s face lit up, and she put her book down without even marking the page. I’d been perpetually single my whole life, thanks to my quirk. The prospect of any male suitor, real or not, would make her week. Year, even. 

“My goodness, Sookie. You should’ve told me you were planning on having company over! I would’ve tidied and made myself scarce. Eric, young man, it’s lovely to meet you, you can call me Adele.” She stood and put out her hand for him to shake. Eric looked at it like it was a limp fish, and I quickly took Gran’s hand in mine.

“Gran, Eric is a vampire.” When The Great Reveal had occurred back in ’03, Gran and I had watched as much as we could on TV about vampires, including a documentary that detailed polite vampire etiquette, which included no handshaking.

“Oh, my stars,” she exclaimed, moving her hand to her chest. “A real-life vampire. Here in Bon Temps.”

Eric chuckled warmly and informed her that he’d been residing in Shreveport since the 1980s. Gran’s face lit up and their conversation was off. I made a pot of tea with half an ear to them, the rest of me brooding over the choice to take away the glamour. Gran would turn seventy next fall, and though she was sprightly, I didn’t want to cause her any mental distress. I didn’t want to break her heart. I brought the tray with tea and cookies to the table where Eric now sat beside Gran. He proved to be a fine conversational partner, handling Gran’s excited questioning with grace and patience. 

“Goodness, Sookie. Did you know Eric originated from Europe in the time of the Vikings? And he owns several businesses in Shreveport.” His stock had just gone up in her eyes. For both of those reasons.

“No, I didn’t know that,” I said, pouring tea for us both. My mind made some quick calculations trying to work out his age. Oh my…

“Unfortunately, he wasn’t here during the civil war. It would be just fascinating to talk to someone from that time. My gosh, what would the Descendant think? Eric, do you know of anyone?” 

“Gran,” I said, reaching over to touch her hand, before she got too carried away. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“What’s that, dear?” she said. I took a long, ragged breath and looked to Eric for support, who inclined his head. 

“The last two years, I haven’t actually been away at college.” 

Gran was immediately puzzled, and Eric smoothly took over. She took it as well I expected her to. Eric waited for me on the front porch; he made himself scarce the second Gran and I started crying - which was basically straight away. He sat on the swing seat, pushing it back and forth with the heels of his boots. 

“How is she?” Eric asked when I settled beside him. 

“She’s asleep now. She feels awful, responsible somehow.”

“She is not at fault.” 

“I think rationally she knows that, but she feels responsible for me.” I sighed.

“You have no other family?”

“My brother, Jason. But I don’t see him so much.”

“Your parents?”

“Died in a flash flood when I was seven.” 

Eric nodded, though offered nothing else. I rested my head against his shoulder, and we swung in silence, listening to the crickets and katydids call out to one another in harmony. 

“Were you a parent?” I asked. 

“I had several children in my human life. I’ve borne two vampires since being turned.” 

“Is that a lot like parenting?” I asked. 

“In some ways, yes. In many ways, no.” I had no doubt. I didn’t want to imagine what raising a baby vampire was like. Lots of blood and death and gore, probably. 

“I should probably get you back to the bar,” I said stifling a yawn. I stood up and pulled Eric up by his hand. 

“I don’t need a ride.” 

“Are you sure? There’s only one taxi in town and he never operates this late.” Well, at least two years ago that’d been true.

“I’m sure,” he said with a smile and twinkle in his eye. “I’ve arranged my own transport.”

“Okay, well, thank you for this evening. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Sookie. I look forward to seeing you Monday.” 

I stood up on my tippy-toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, but his face turned at the last moment and his lips caught mine. My first inclination was to push him away, but that small, dangerous part of me won over. We kissed, at first softly, and I circled my arms around his neck. I parted my lips and lost myself in the moment; I’d never kissed a man like this before. Well, I had, but I’d had to put up with their internal yammerings at the same time. This was different, magical. I leaned into Eric, and the kiss took on an ardent tone, his tongue tracing along mine, his hands securing me in place at my waist. After a millennium of being alive, Eric sure had kissing down to a fine art. He dipped me slightly backward, his hand trailing down to cup my bottom. When we parted, I was breathless and starry-eyed; Eric kept his face close to mine and inhaled deeply. 

“Sookie, do not be confused by what I am. I’m not a good man,” he murmured. He kissed me again, and this time I could feel his fangs.

“Oh honey, I know,” I said when we parted. “You look like ten miles of bad road.”

He laughed, and his entire face lit up. When I managed to peel myself away from him, Eric walked down the porch steps onto the lawn. With one last look at me, he turned his gaze to the sky and shot off into the air and out of sight. I clapped my hand over my mouth to contain my shriek. I ran down the steps and looked up after him. Eric hovered above the tree line, and though it was difficult to tell in the low light, I think he might’ve winked at me before disappearing from sight. 

* * *

I awoke to the smell of bacon cooking on the pan, and the sounds of Gran humming as she bustled about the kitchen. I immediately pulled my shields up when I caught the tenor of her thoughts. She was focused, operating with purpose and determination. It was just after nine, so I slipped into my ratty dressing gown and plodded out to the kitchen. Gran was dressed already, hair pinned back into a tight bun, and the entire kitchen table set out with breakfast foods. Scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes, a plate laden with bacon – and more cooking on the pan, plus pans filled with gravy and grits, and a tray of biscuits cooling on the counter. 

“I was just about to wake you,” she said and guided me across the floor to take a seat. “Now how did you sleep?”

“What is all this?” I asked as I sat down. I didn’t answer her question. I’d slept terribly, of course. 

“Now that I know why you’re pale and skinny, it’s my job to make sure you get fed. Now sit and eat.” It was an order if I ever heard one. I complied and when my plate emptied, she refilled it for me and poured me another cup of coffee. She cleared my plate away when I declared myself stuffed and she checked her watch and tutted.

“Go shower and dress,” she said, “I’ve made an appointment at the doctor so you can have a physical. Then I’m taking you to the CVS to get some multivitamins.”

“Gran,” I said gently. “You don’t need to do all this.” 

“Yes, I do,” she said, her jaw firming with resolve. “Now skedaddle, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.” She ushered me toward the bathroom. Gran couldn’t help me back then, so she was making it her job to help me now. All my previous apprehension about letting her know the truth was dashed away. She was handling it like a pro.

Dr Ward was the same doctor I’d had my entire life, though truthfully, I’d never had much need for one. I’d always been in good health, never sick. He checked me over thoroughly and directed the nurse to draw blood. At this point, I turned to Gran in a wild panic. She clamped down on my hand, and told me, in a voice strong and sure, that I could and would do it. I squeezed my eyes shut while the nurse filled two phials. A few tears managed to squeeze their way out. It was too much. Too much. I’d never wanted this to happen again, no matter the reason. Never. It was _my_ blood. 

Gran’s strong, stalwart presence was reassuring like a lighthouse in a storm. She was a proper southern woman. A steel magnolia. 

“Slow your breaths, Sookie,” she said. “Focus on me.” 

I used my new debit card to pay for the appointment. I’d ordered it the day I got back since the one in my wallet had long expired, and I still had a little bit of money in my account - a couple hundred bucks. The appointment near ate it all up. I needed to get back to work. My health insurance had lapsed, and Gran had been managing to keep the household afloat on her meager pension this whole time. We were lucky that we still had income left from a fund that had been set up when an oil well was sunk at my parents' property. 

After that, we went to the CVS and Gran paid for the bottles of multivitamins and iron tablets the doctor recommended. She went to the library to return some books while I walked to the grocery store to pick up a few necessities. Crystal was standing out the front of the store, balancing a brown paper bag filled with groceries on one hip—and shamelessly flirting with a tall man in a baseball cap. He leaned close to her whispering something, and I caught sight of his face. I didn’t recognize him. He was tan, his ruddy featured weathered by a lifetime in the sun. 

“Hi Crystal,” I said. “You’re looking well.” 

The two straightened quickly and he nodded to us both. “I’ll see ya later, Crys,” he said and retreated into the store. 

“Good to see you, Sookie,” she said and flipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. I got no clear thoughts from her, as I never seemed to with two-natured folk, but I received loud and clear how annoyed she was by my intrusion.

“Who was that?” I asked. 

“Just someone I know from Hotshot,” she said. “What are you doing here?” 

“Shopping,” I said. Her answer struck me as odd. From what I recalled, almost everyone from Hotshot had the snarly mental signature that indicated a were, but that guy had been human. We passed another awkward moment, before I asked after her health. 

“Fine. Still nauseous all the time.” She shrugged. “It’s easing up some.” 

“That’s good to hear. We’ll have to have dinner together one night. I’d love to get to know you more now we’re sisters.” I was trying, Lord help me. But Crystal narrowed her eyes at me. 

“You couldn’t be bothered making the trip over for our wedding. And now you wanna be best buds?” 

My smile froze in place. “No, I just mean-”

“Fine, whatever,” she said, with a shake of her head. “Jason wanted to have y’all around for dinner this week. How about next Friday?” We agreed on Tuesday and I went into the store to make my purchases. I would try my best with Crystal, for Jason’s sake and the baby’s, but she really rubbed me the wrong way. Jason was all bug-eyed over her, but I wondered what Gran really thought of it all.

In the cooler section, I paused by the synthetic blood selection. They were pricey. I hemmed and hawed, mentally calculating how much I had to left spend after purchasing what was in my basket. I eventually picked a six-pack of LifeForce, which wasn’t quite as expensive as Tru Blood but still not as cheap and nasty looking as Red Stuff. Even the name was enough to turn your stomach. I walked all the way to the registers to make my purchase before turning back and returning the bottles. Maybe it was a little too soon. Maybe I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I wanted vampire visitors. Well, visitor. 

Gran drove home, taking the familiar turns on the parish roads a little slower than usual. She hummed contemplatively, tapping her thumb against the steering wheel. “That Mr. Northman is fine young man,” she said. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call him young.” 

“Oh, silly me, you’re right,” Gran said with a laugh. “He’s respectable too, though, wouldn’t you say? Offering to help you and all the effort he went to just to save you. Traveling across the country and nearly facing death in that terrorist attack!” 

“I guess you’re right,” I said staring out the window at the passing scenery. I hadn’t gone over all of the grisly details of my escape with Gran; I’d just told her that Eric had gone through the vampire legal system to have me released.

“That’s a lot of effort to go through just for you.” 

“What are you trying to say, Gran?” I knew exactly what she was trying to say. Didn’t even need to be a mind-reader. 

“Perhaps you need to thank him? Take him out for dinner?”

“Gran! That’s super inappropriate!”

“Oh, right.” She tutted, catching her slip. “Well, what do vampires do in their free time?” 

“I haven’t the foggiest. Murder? Mayhem?” And don't forget sex.

“Sookie June Stackhouse,” she said, her tone turning sharp. “I raised you better than that. Don’t be so glib. We need to treat all of God’s creatures with the respect they deserve, and Eric’s helped you enormously. Surely he's deserving of more respect than most.”

“I’m going to his bar on Monday night after work to help him with something,” I admitted after apologizing. 

Gran’s countenance visibly improved with this piece of news. “Wonderful. Help him with what?” 

“I’ve offered to use my, uh, abilities to help him out.” Gran and I had never really specifically talked about my disability in such open terms, but I guess after all I’d been through the time was now.

“Is that safe?” She took her eyes off the road to look at me with concern. 

“I think so. I’m just making sure his staff are on the up and up. He’s promised not to tell anyone else about what I can do.” 

“No one else found out… back in New Orleans?” 

“No ma’am,” I said with a head shake.

“Maybe you two go out dancing afterward, or to a movie?” 

“Give it a rest, Gran,” I said with a laugh. 

“I saw the way he looked at you,” she said in a sing-song voice, and I looked at her sharply. 

“How’s that?” I was annoyed at her needling me but somehow still dying to know. It was quite embarrassing, really. 

“He looked at you like you were the prettiest woman in all of Northern Louisiana—which you are.” 

“Oh, hush. You’re exaggerating. I saw the way the women looked at him at his bar. They all wanted to throw themselves at him. His choices are limitless.”

“My guess is he’s already chosen,” she said. 

I scoffed and remained silent the rest of the drive, mulling over her words. Which I’m sure was exactly what Gran had intended.


	12. XII

My first shift at Merlotte’s was the very next night. I went in early, off the clock, to try and acclimate before beginning what would surely be a busy Saturday night. I was doing okay with my shields, but they had never been particularly good, and sustained effort while working was always a challenge. It was like keeping full concentration on two things at once. A little bit of an impossibility, though I seemed to manage it when I had practice. I wasn’t sure how I’d manage a full shift after such a long break. Just like my daily walks through the woods home, maybe I needed to work out my mental shields too. Treat it like exercise. I filed that thought away as something to consider later.

I let myself in through the back door. Sam caught me in the hallway and hugged me warmly; it was the first time we’d seen each other since I’d been back. He’d always been a great boss and an even better friend. He led me out to the bar where a larger than life chef I didn’t recognize brought out a piece of apple pie with a candle on it. The other waitresses, Holly, Arlene, Danielle, and another I didn’t recognize greeted me with a ‘Welcome home’ sign. 

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face and, for the first time since coming back, I felt like I was back where I belonged. The staff, the bar with all its familiarities and even my job. It was like stepping into an old comfy pair of shoes. Wiping down the old wooden bartop polished by years of use, seeing the familiar faces seated at the bar and in the dining area, the smell of fries cooking, even just wearing my old uniform. I was at home. I tightened my ponytail and tucked my pen into the back of it—I was so ready for this. 

I took my break after the dinner rush and joined Sam in his office with a basket of fries and chicken strips. It had been a busy night, and I was a little slower than I used to be, but I was picking it all up without a hitch. I leaned back in my seat and propped my feet up against the armrest of Sam's office chair. My legs were aching, as were my cheeks from the nervous smiling—a nervous tick of mine when I couldn't keep my shields in place, but there were worse things in this world. I understood that keenly.

“Where’s Lafayette at these days?” I asked. I offered some fries to Sam, but he declined with a frown. The food was good here but missing some of the boldness and personal touch that Lafayette was famous for. Though I didn’t think that was the reason why Sam declined my offer.

“You didn’t hear?” he said.

“Hear what?” 

“Lafayette died, Sookie. About a year and a half ago.” 

“What? Oh my God.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “How?” 

“I found his body out in the parking lot in Andy Bellefleur’s car when I came to open up one morning. He’d been murdered.” 

“Andy’s car?” I asked. Shock rippled through me like a wave.

“Andy had been drunk as a skunk the night before and Portia picked him up, so he left car in the lot.” 

“Who killed Lafayette?”

“It was never solved,” he said and shifted in his seat. I lowered my shields a little. Yes, I knew it was bad form listening in on my own boss. Doing this was exactly the reason I never managed to hold down a job before I’d come to Merlotte’s, but I could tell there was something else Sam wasn’t telling me. 

“Why do you feel guilty?” I said, setting my feet down on the ground and sitting up straight. I couldn't get a straight read of Sam's thoughts, just like most two-natured people, but I picked up his emotions loud and clear.

“I didn’t do it,” he said indignantly. “There was someone passing through town at the time. She had an… influence on people around her.” 

“Influence? What do you mean? Some lady influenced someone to murder Lafayette?” I got a clear picture from Sam's mind. A woman, tall with dark hair and refined, regal features. She was dressed in a white floor-length dress like a Greek goddess. 

“A lot has happened since you’ve been gone, Sook.” And so Sam filled me in. Dawn Green and Maudette Pickens’ death. The subsequent arrest of Rene. Jason had been accused! I couldn’t believe Gran hadn’t told me. All she’d mentioned was some “legal troubles” Jason had run into not long after I’d left. At the time when she was telling me, it was clear it was still a sensitive topic, so I’d let it rest, thinking he’d just been booked for a DUI or for punching some guy over a girl they both liked. You know, the usual Jason hijinx stuff. But how could she not tell me he'd been accused of _murder_? Then Sam told me the rest it… How Lafayette’s death led to the uncovering of a secret swinger’s club in Bon Temps. How a serial shooter had killed several in Shreveport and had shot Sam. Shot him! He showed me the scar on his arm, which had healed surprisingly well. He, working together with Andy Bellefleur and Bud Dearborn, had discovered the culprit was Sweetie Des Arts, the chef that had taken over Lafayette’s post. 

“I have to wonder what the hell happened to this town after you left,” he said, running a hand through the back of his shaggy, strawberry-blond hair. 

“It’s like some hellmouth opened nearby,” I said. Sam looked at me blankly. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer reference.” I leaned back in my chair and exhaled all in one huff. Serial shooters. Serial killers. Swingers clubs. Sex, mayhem, murder. Hadn’t I accused vampires of the very same? Seemed like us ordinary small-town folk were just as guilty of it. 

“And you left, Sookie,” Sam said with a slow shake of his head. “While I’m glad you missed it all, you left without a word. Not even a goodbye. Your gran was the one to inform me when I got back from Texas. I didn’t even know you were interested in college, let alone that you’d applied.” 

I sighed and bit down hard on my lip. I couldn’t even hold his gaze. What was I to tell him? 

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” I said. I felt awful that I’d done him wrong. Sam had been away in Texas for the week visiting his Momma the night I’d been taken. He would’ve come home and had a shock. We’d always had a special connection. There had always been a certain… something between us. A spark that could've materialized if either one of us were so inclined. Though I’d never seriously entertained the thought. He was my boss, after all. But I couldn’t imagine how much it would’ve hurt him to come back and know that I’d left town with nary a goodbye. We’d always been good friends. And then there was the fact I disappeared and left him minus a waitress.

“You alright, cher?”

“I know you know I’m different,” I said, looking down as my hands twisted my napkin this way and that. “Just like I know you’re different. Different in different ways, I mean.” I glanced up and Sam’s shock was palpable. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You think I wouldn’t work it out, Sam Merlotte? Frankly, I’m offended you never told me when you knew very well what I was.” 

“Ah, heck, Sook. I never—”

“Never mind that. My point is that you weren’t the only one who figured out I was different. Other people, people with a higher station and influence in life than you or me. They saw it fit to remove me from mine.”

My words were cryptic, I knew that, but it was too painful to spell out plainly. I still felt hungover from the crying and emotional upheaval with Gran the night before. 

“What people? You mean you never went to college?” 

I shook my head. 

“What people, Sookie?” His eyes flashed yellow, and for the first time ever, I got a true sense of his otherness. There was a beast within him, waiting to spring free and seek vengeance.

“Vampires.” 

“Vampires kidnapped you? Who? Which ones?” Sam jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth like a dog in a pen.

“I was kept by their Queen in New Orleans.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sookie!”

“Watch your language!”

“Sorry, sorry, Jesus, I just can’t believe it.” He scrubbed his face with a hand. “What did they do to you?” 

“It wasn’t pleasant, I’ll admit. But I wasn’t tortured, per se.” I flashed back to my days during Hurricane Katrina but hurriedly pushed those memories back into their box and away in the furthest corner of my mind. Sam had the sense not to ask more.

“I’m so sorry,” he said and knelt beside my chair. We embraced. “You didn’t deserve any of that.” 

“You didn’t deserve to be shot. It’s just the way it is sometimes.” We parted and he smiled at me. His thoughts were soft, welcoming. Two survivors. Sam took his seat again and this time helped himself to some fries.

“How did you get away?”

“Partly thanks to luck, partly thanks to a Shreveport vampire. Eric Northman.”

“Was he involved in this?” His thoughts turned dark and snarly. “He’s bad news, Sookie. You need to steer clear of him.” 

“No! He saved me. I wouldn’t be sitting here in front of you if it weren’t for him. He’s my friend.”

“He’s no friend to anyone other than himself. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.” 

“Why? What’s he done to you?” 

“Nothing personally, it’s just…” Sam trailed off, and I caught the gist. It was just he was a vampire. “He’s old and very manipulative.” 

I checked the clock and stood up; my break was over. “That may be the case,” I said, “But I can only judge him by his actions. He went above and beyond to help me, for seemingly no reason other than I needed it.” 

Sam scoffed. “No reason you know of yet.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Mind your prejudice, Sam. It looks ugly on you.” 

I left his office, fighting the urge to slam his door. Sam knew nothing of what I’d been through. Of what it took just to come home. He was in no position to judge. I returned my empty dinner basket to the kitchen and thanked Callie, the cook, for my meal. I’d miss Lafayette, but this woman was just as much a character. It was a wonder she managed to navigate around the tiny kitchen given how big and tall she was. 

“Are you done, Sookie?” Arlene asked, leaning through the service window. She was harried and annoyed. “I can’t cover your tables for much longer!” 

“Coming!” I said. I adjusted my ponytail and got back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter. Sorry I haven't been posting with as much frequency this last week. This is my final EVER week of grad school. Things are hectic, to put it lightly.


	13. XIII

Monday night at Merlotte’s proved to be a funny one. My shift started at five, and I arrived to see a small group of patrons seated at the end of the bar surrounding a woman I’d never seen before. 

She was gorgeous. Luminous, in fact. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long silky brown hair and she was captivating the group with an anecdote I couldn’t quite hear. Even Sam couldn’t drag his eyes off her. When I brushed against her mind, I encountered static; she immediately looked across at me and beamed. I didn’t know what to make of it, but frankly, I had more pressing concerns. I tied my apron around my waist and set about filling up the salt and pepper shakers and restocking the cutlery tubs and napkin holders in preparation for the dinner rush. It was funny how, after such a long break from working, it was all coming back so naturally to me. I just stepped right back into the rhythm of it all.

Gran came in for dinner around six with her book discussion group (which was, in actual fact, a gossip discussion group) and took up a large portion of my section. They kept me busy dashing back and forth refilling their teas and serving their orders.

Maxine Thortenberry grabbed my arm as I passed by on my way back to the bar. “It’s so lovely you’re home again, Sookie!” she crooned. “You have no idea how much your Gran has been missing you.”

“Thank you, Maxine. It’s lovely to be back.” I kept my smiled fixed in place. Maxine was a busybody. Frankly, I was surprised the glamour held because she sure knew how to sniff out any piece of gossip in her close vicinity. 

“Did you graduate?”

“No, ma’am.” 

“Oh, that’s such a shame,” she said with a sympathetic pat to my hand that imparted not a shred of sympathy. “College is difficult. We haven’t all got the smarts for it, have we?” 

Gran cleared her throat, loudly, and interrupted. “She actually was at the top of her class, Maxine. I think we all know Sookie is brighter than most. I asked her to come home to help me out. You know how much trouble my hip is giving me.” 

“Is that so?” she said. “Have you said hello to Hoyt yet, Sookie? He just got a pay rise on the road crew. He’ll be running it before you know it! He’s here, you know. Hoyt! Hoyt!” She stood and began loudly waving and calling to him across the bar. Just like that, she was onto the next thing. Gran and I shared a secret smile and, after checking the table was happy, I walked over to the pool tables where Hoyt was dusting his cue. 

“Hey, Sook!” He hugged me. Hoyt was Jason’s best friend and almost like a brother to me. In fact, in many respects, he was a better brother to me growing up than Jason had ever been. He was a momma’s boy through and through, but with a heart of gold. You’d be hard-pressed to find a nicer man in Bon Temps.

“Great to see you,” I said, leaning my hip against the table for a brief respite. “How’s life?” 

“Same old. Working the road crew. Tryin’ to live my best life,” he said. He lined up the cue and took his shot, nearly sinking a red ball but missing instead. “Happy to be back?”

“You better believe it. Jason with you?” 

Hoyt nodded to the bar, and I turned to see Jason in the throng surrounding the beautiful woman. He was flirting with her. Shamelessly. I sighed. I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised. 

I dragged Jason out by the earlobe. “What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed. I snuck a look over my shoulder to make sure Gran wasn’t looking, which thankfully she wasn’t.

“What? Get off me.” He brushed my hand away. 

“Jason Stackhouse, you have a pregnant wife at home waiting for you.” What a cad! Jason just had this charm to him that seemed to attract every available woman within a mile radius and women who weren’t available too. And he knew it and loved it. But more often than not that same charm landed him in hot water. It had actually come as a great a surprise to find him shacked up with someone permanently. 

“Get out of my head,” he snapped and we glared at each other. “You have no right to be invading my privacy.” 

“I don’t need to be in your head to know when you’re making dumb decisions.” 

“You’re one to talk,” he shot back. “Wasting a college scholarship for no good reason.” I saw red. I wanted to wallop him. The best I could manage was flipping him off and stalking back behind the bar. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you why that was inappropriate employee behavior,” Sam said with a chuckle, though he was only half-joking. 

“He’s making a fool of himself.” I slammed my tray down. 

“Order up!” Callie called, and I moved on. 

Things quietened down after Gran and her group left, and I found myself manning the bar while Sam took his dinner break. I wandered down to the little crowd at the end of the bar, which had now thinned to four or five people plus the unusual woman. 

“Howdy, can I get y’all anything?” I asked. 

“Glass of wine please,” the woman. Her voice was smooth as honey. “The sweetest you’ve got.” I poured her a dessert wine and she paid me in crisp bills, tipping generously.

“Passing through?” I asked. 

“I live in Monroe,” she said. “I heard good things about Merlotte’s. I wanted to see it for myself.” She might not be a twoey, but she was decidedly supernatural. Either way, she wasn’t causing trouble, so it was none of my business. 

I brought a fresh pitcher of beer to Jason’s table later, and with a start, I recognized one of the men around the table as the guy Crystal had been shamelessly flirting with at the store the other day. Christ on a cracker. Maybe Jason and Crystal deserved one another. 

“Who is that?” I asked Arlene, nodding to the group. “Tall guy, brown hair, tanned face.” 

“That’s Dove Beck. You don’t recognize him?” Arlene said, handing an order slip over to the kitchen. I knew him by name. He was a few grades above Jason in high school. “I slept with him once," Arlene said, "after the New Year’s party a few years back. He’s not bad.” She began making a measurement between her pointer fingers, waggling her brows. I blushed furiously and chastised her; she cackled.

Arlene was a maneater and seemed perpetually content boyfriend hopping. And every new man was apparently “the one” and "it" for her. Though, as I'd found out during our last shift, the subject of Rene Lenier was definitely still very raw; the redhead had bitten my head off when I’d asked her how she was faring in the aftermath. I guess dating a serial killer isn't something you get over quickly.

I clocked off soon after nine and had no time to shower and change, so I drove straight to Shreveport with the windows down, hoping to blow the smell of grease and beer off me. The closer I got to city limits the higher my nerves spiked. I parked around the back of Fangtasia, as Eric had instructed me to, right next to his cherry-red Corvette. It was the car he’d driven me home in from New Orleans and somehow fit Eric to a T. I brushed and then re-tied my hair into a ponytail again before getting out and knocking on the back door of the club. The blonde vampire friend of Eric’s let me in but not before first looking me up and down. 

“Normally I wouldn’t let in someone wearing something like _that_, but given how much skin you’re showing, I won’t complain.” Her smile was lurid and positively fangy. She opened the door all the way to let me pass.

“I came straight from work,” I told her a little defensively. The outfit wasn’t _that_ revealing, though the black short-shorts Sam had us wear in the warmer months were significantly shorter than anything I’d normally choose to wear in public. Other than that, I was just in my regular white Merlotte’s t-shirt. If anyone had the right to judge outfits, it was me. She was dressed in a pale blue twinset as if she’d stepped straight off the set of Desperate Housewives. Not what I expected from the same would-be Morticia Addams who’d let me into the club just four nights earlier.

The vampire led me down the corridor and into Eric’s office, which I already recognized thanks to my little foray into the minds of Fangtasia’s female patrons. It was small but serviceable. A closet in the corner, a pinboard on the wall covered with bits and pieces much like the one in Sam’s office, small black leather couch, and an office desk featuring a computer with paperwork piled beside it.

“Good evening, Sookie,” Eric said, eyeing me appreciably. He introduced his vampire lady-friend to me as Pam, informing me she was his child. Somehow this didn’t surprise me. Though their relationship didn’t strike me as father-daughter, I got the sense she was his second-in-command. Once the introductions were over, and with my approval, Eric told Pam of my abilities and bound her by maker’s command not to speak of it to anyone. I tried not to mind. After all, I had to be pragmatic, and it was the lesser of two evils. My presence tonight would raise questions with her, I was at least grateful that Eric was able to guarantee my safety through his maker's command. She seemed particularly interested to learn of my quirk but significantly more interested in staring at my chest.

When Pam went back out to the main bar to wait for everyone else to arrive, Eric gestured to the black leather couch, inviting me to sit. I gladly obliged. My poor feet and thighs were still getting used to hustling beers and burgers every night.

“You seem happier,” he remarked, tapping the end of his pen against the paperwork he’d been poring over when I'd entered the room.

“I’m feeling better,” I confirmed with a nod. “Settling back into life. How are things with you?”

“Fine. Pleased my view has improved.” He grinned at me, and suddenly I saw exactly where Pam learned her caddish behavior.

“Have you heard from Sophie-Anne?” I held my breath. I’d been anxious over what the fall-out might be for Eric politically.

“She’s healed from the attacks and returned to the palace. Just in time, it would seem.” He stopped abruptly as if he hadn’t meant to reveal so much.

“Just in time how?”

There was a long pause where we simply stared at one another. I sat fixed in place, but squirming internally and busting to look away. I had a feeling he was measuring me up somehow, so I rallied every bit of strength to hold his gaze.

“There was another attempt at her throne,” he said eventually. I guess I'd passed his test.

“You’re kidding me. Who?”

“Nevada. Like Arkansas, it failed. But this is strictly confidential, Sookie,” he warned. He looked as serious as a heart attack. “You’re not to tell anyone.”

I let out an astounded laugh. “Who do you think I’d have to tell?” This seemed to ease Eric’s worries somewhat. “Well, I’m sure the Queen is pleased with the result. She’s had more than one brush with death recently.” 

I still couldn’t quite reconcile how the Queen and her retinue had managed to escape in the daytime during the attacks. Did she have a human companion that evacuated them? Did she know beforehand it was going to happen? Surely not, otherwise she would’ve left the night before. “Did she ever tell you how she managed to get out of the hotel in time?”

Eric shook his head. “She hasn’t mentioned it. After my court appearance, we haven’t been in communication as frequently as we used to.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as weird that she escaped, mostly unscathed, during broad daylight?”

Eric opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he hadn’t really thought it over before. “I’d just assumed…” He trailed off. His mind was probably running through the same possibilities as mine had.

“Weird, huh,” I said with a knowing nod. “How did the others in her retinue fare? The Berts? Rasul?”

“Fine. They were in a part of the hotel that did not sustain as much damage. They were removed in their coffins and taken to a safe evacuation point after the bombing.”

“But not the Queen? You said she sustained burns.”

We looked at each other for a long moment, as I got the distinct feeling I was only hearing part of the full story. I didn’t know if Eric was hiding something from me or if he was clueless as I was, but something stunk. _Whatever._ I brushed it aside. It wasn’t any of my business anymore. That part of my life was done.

“Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night?”

I froze, caught off guard by the sudden segue. “Dinner?”

“There’s a restaurant that caters to supernatural clientele in the city.”

“Like a date?”

“Of a sort.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re smiling like I’ve already said yes,” I said. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, propping his booted feet up against the table.

“So that’s a no?”

“What’s the dress code?”

“A cocktail dress should suffice. Would you like me to courier something over to you tomorrow morning?”

“No!” I said, appalled. “Don’t buy me anything. I’m sure I’d have something suitable in my wardrobe.”

“Very well.” He stood and approached the couch so that we were almost knocking knees, and I was forced to crane my head. Before I could blink, he pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me. “You smell lovely this evening, Sookie.” His nose traced along my neck. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, patting him on the chest so he’d release me. “Let’s get this over with.”

“As you wish.”

“And, just for the record, I still haven’t said yes.” If only I had a camera to capture his look of surprise. Catching flies, as Gran would say.

Out in the bar, I quickly realized there was one thing that all of Fangtasia’s staff had in common. They were hot. Like, just stepped straight off the runway hot.

“Who’s in charge of hiring here?” I whispered to Pam, unsure I wanted to know the answer.

“Me,” she said, oozing smug satisfaction. Her gaze was trained on one girl, who looked like the love child of Penelope Cruz and Monica Bellucci. Judging by the heated looks they were exchanging, they wanted to eat each other up. Literally.

Pam and I sat at a bar table, me with a diet coke and Pam with a glass of Tru Blood, while Eric interviewed the girls one-by-one at his booth. I took notes on a legal pad with a pencil. The girls were all happy with their positions. One was a dancer who worked the stage on Friday and Saturday nights and enjoyed the perks the role entailed, i.e., the attentions of all the vampires in the region. The others, more generally, were happy with the benefits the job provided. Health insurance. Paid vacation leave, even for the casual staff. And great tips, apparently.

“Eric treats them well here,” I murmured, as I took notes from the mind of one girl, Bethany. She seemed like a good employee, apart from the fact she was allowing vampires to bite her on-premises. Big no-no. In fact, it was a law that had been passed at the time of the Great Reveal. Feeding was strictly to be done within private establishments and homes.

“We find good treatment engenders loyalty. Why, your shifter not taking care of your needs?” Pam stroked the back of my calf with the toe of her heels. “I’m sure we could make room for you on staff here.”

I kicked her foot away. “I’m perfectly happy with my job, thank you very much.” Pam laughed delightedly, earning a scowl from Cassandra, the lovechild who’d been making goo-goo eyes at Pam earlier. I dipped a toe into her thoughts. Oof, she was fiery, and borderline obsessed with the Pam. Fiercely territorial over her, in fact. Seemed like they had a little thing going on.

“None of them really seem to think it’s strange to be called in on their night off for questioning,” I said.

“It’s not unheard of,” Pam said. “I'll just glamour them into thinking we had a staff meeting if they seem concerned. Though, I doubt there will be a need for it.”

As it turned out, Pam’s observation about good treatment and loyalty certainly proved to be true. The staff all seemed very devoted to their bosses, and other than the odd small thing, like allowing patrons to buy them drinks while on duty and taking liberties with vampires, there was nothing to write home about. One girl, Ginger, apparently used to steal bottles of liquor in her early days at the club before going sober. I quickly considered and dismissed the idea of passing the secret along. For a start, it was history now. And, more importantly, her mind was practically swiss-cheese thanks to constant glamouring. I’d come across it at the palace. Over-glamouring could practically turn people into walking zombies.

“Y’all need to stop glamouring Ginger,” I said under my breath, knowing Pam would hear. “She’s got half a foot in a mental ward as it is.”

“She is rather vacant,” Pam observed. “That would be down to our ex business-partner.” I raised a brow and gestured with my pen for her to continue. “He was skimming from the bar and made Ginger do the dirty work. He’d glamoured her thoroughly to ensure we couldn’t find out, but I caught her in the act.”

“You guys had another business partner? What happened to him?”

“Eric chopped off his hand with a broad sword.” She scanned the bar blandly as she spoke like she was relaying yesterday’s weather.

“What?” I hissed. She sighed - a mannerism highly unusual for a vampire. Again, this was something that set her and Eric apart from all other vampires I’d met.

“It’s common custom in many cultures to cut off the hands of thieves. It seemed fitting. Eric ordered him out of the state and back to his maker. We regained ownership of his portion of the bar.” I looked over at Eric as he spoke with Ginger, and I tried to picture him wielding a broad sword. Yes. The vision came easily enough. But chopping off someone’s hand?

I shook the image from my mind. Eric was ancient. A Viking. I bet he’d killed hundreds. Thousands. I gulped the rest of my drink and asked for a refill, with bourbon this time. Pam waved over Cassandra and ordered our drinks. I went back to my notetaking and hardly noticed when Cassandra approached our table with our drinks. She slammed my glass down in front of me, making me jump. 

“Leave Pamela alone,” she said with a sneer. “She’s mine.” She then tossed the entire contents of Pam’s full bottle of Tru Blood on me. I shrieked and dropped my pen, absolutely drenched. Pam launched from her seat and grabbed the poor girl by the neck. Eric strode over.

“You’re dismissed,” Eric growled at her. The girl moaned.

“Urgh!” I stood and shook my hands off, the blood hitting the ground in viscous splatters. It did little good. My t-shirt was coated in the stuff, it was all through my hair, and splattered across my white tennis shoes.

“Are you alright?” Eric asked me.

“I’m not anyone’s, sweetheart,” Pam drawled to Cassandra. “And I’m certainly not yours.” Despite the hardness in her tone, Pam was burning with excitement, her fangs fully extended. “Eric, let me take her down to the dungeon.” The girl moaned again, this time it was with a mixture of pleasure and fear. 

“There’s a dungeon?” I said. Suddenly the synthetic blood I was coated in was the least of my concerns. Eric gave me an inscrutable look and didn’t answer. “Where?” I demanded. "Where!"

I plucked the location straight from Cassandra’s mind and left them standing in the bar. The door was beside Eric’s office and I tugged it open, numbly noticing the line of deadlocks and bolts that would allow the door to be secured into place. I found the light switch and jogged down the stairs. I sensed Eric shadowing behind me. 

“What the fuck.” My voice echoed back to me. The dungeon was a long, dank room with a row of silver chains strung up against the wall. “What the fuck!” 

“Sookie, I don’t-” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said, spinning to face him. “You’re all the same. I don’t know why I expected any different.” I let out a strangled sound of frustration, anger, disgust. I couldn’t bear to be in the room any longer, I felt trapped – imprisoned - again. My chest tightened, squeezing, forcing the breath from me. I took the stairs two at a time and collected my purse from his office. Eric stood blocking the door, an imposing sight in his dark clothes and leather jacket.

“You can’t leave looking like that,” he said. “At least let me get you a spare change of clothes.”

“Leftover from some helpless girl you’ve had chained in your dungeon?”

His lips pressed together in a thin line. “I understand your visceral response, but I’ve never strung up any helpless victims down there. Girls or otherwise.” 

“What? Just big bad wolves?” I thought I might vomit. My hands shook with anger and with the need to put as much distance between myself and that—that room. I needed to get away. Far, far away. I was like a rabbit - I just wanted to bolt without a second glance behind me.

“Well… Yes,” he answered. 

My thoughts ground to a halt. Say what? 

“I’m a lawman, Sookie. I’m the sheriff. You mean to tell me your local sheriff doesn’t have a similar holding pen in the police station?”

“Exactly! It’s a holding cell not a dungeon.” Not the trenches.

“Potato po-tah-to.” 

My crazed, racing thoughts faltered, and just like that, the flurry of emotions and panic and fear and nausea whooshed right out of me. I set my purse on the floor and sat like a sack of rocks on the leather couch. Eric left the room to get me some water and clothes while I tried to settle myself. When he returned, I was still seated, forehead in my hands, elbows resting on my knees. He sat beside me and placed the glass of water between us on the floor so it was within my view. 

We sat like that for a long time. My thoughts slowly unwinding. Slowly processing. Eric solid and stolid beside me like a boulder. Strength equal to that of Gran’s at the doctor’s office earlier in the week, but this was a different variety of strength. Without expectations. Without prejudice. I finally lifted my head.

“This is all we have,” he said. There was no apologetic inflection in his tone. He held a black t-shirt from the gift shop, Fangtasia emblazoned in red across the front. The tag read XXL. I wanted to laugh, I really did, but my fuel tank was empty.

I excused myself to the ladies’ room and cleaned myself up as best I could, including running my hair under the faucet. The t-shirt reached my knees, I could practically sleep in it. Wasn’t a bad idea, actually. It was 100% cotton. I rinsed my Merlotte’s t-shirt under the water. The synthetic blood didn't completely wash out, but I’d tackle it later at home. I balled up my soiled clothes, picked up my shoes and padded out barefoot to the bar area. 

“You sent everyone home,” I said. The blood had been cleaned up too. “I hadn’t finished reading them all.”

Eric leaned against the bar, engrossed in his phone, typing something. “You can finish another night.”

I let out an almighty sigh, in relief or in annoyance or exhaustion, I wasn’t sure. Eric looked up then and his phone was forgotten.

“You look good like that,” he said. The leer dripped from his voice. He picked up a cardboard coaster off the bar and dropped it on the floor directly beside him. “Whoops. Do you think you can bend over and pick that up for me?” 

I rolled my eyes and dumped my stuff on the empty barstool where I’d been sitting. “C’mon, let me tell you what I heard so I can get home and forget tonight ever happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient. Thanks also for all your kind wishes. And thanks for the lovely continued responses you've been giving this fic from the beginning - it got me writing, which provided me with an enjoyable outlet during an incredibly stressful period of my life. Next chapter will be up in about four days.


	14. XIV

Eric walked me to my car and took the keys from my hand midway through my third yawn and announced that he would drive me home. A matter of health and safety apparently, and then he made some disparaging comments about my car—which I chose to ignore. I’d bought my Malibu off Tara for a buck five years ago and it had served me well. He was right about one thing though, I was beat. I reluctantly gave him my keys and slid into the passenger seat carefully so as not to flash him unduly. Funny how, after two years of showering nude in front of guards, my sense of modesty had returned in full force. 

“Have you thought more about tomorrow night?” he asked. He’d waited until there was a lull in our conversation. We were closing in on the turn-off to Bon Temps and had mostly been chit-chatting.

“No,” I answered truthfully. It’d been a busy evening.

“It’s not with me.” 

“Sorry?” I turned my view from the window to look at him. 

“The dinner isn’t with me.” 

The cogs of my brain turned slowly as I tried to make sense of the words and then what they might mean. “You invited me to dinner with… someone else?” 

“There’s someone who wants to meet you.” 

“A blind date? You’re setting me up on a blind date.” I saw humor in his eyes, and he shook his head. “Then who?”

“It’s not really for me to say,” he said, and I could see he was choosing his words very carefully. “They’re not a vampire. It’s someone who approached me to help you.” 

“When? When I was imprisoned?” I didn’t like all the cryptic talk. In fact, I hated it. “Why can’t you tell me?” 

He took his eyes off the road for a moment and his expression softened with compassion. “I can stay with you while you meet him. I promise you’ll be safe.” 

“I’m not a fan of promises.”

“Have you never wondered why you are the way you are?” he said. 

I was struck dumb for a good moment. 

“Why I am the way I am? You mean my disability?” 

Eric grimaced at the term. “It’s not a disability, Sookie. It’s a gift.” 

“Pfft. You try living with it 24/7 for nearly three decades and tell me what you think.” 

“You could harness it like a gift, if you wished.” 

I shrugged. He may have been right, but I had no strong feelings about it one way of the other. I just wanted to live my life freely and untroubled. 

“So what you’re saying is this person can answer questions about my telepathy.” 

“Yes.” 

“But you can’t tell me who they are.” 

“They wish to tell you themself.” His top lip quirked upward. He clearly wasn’t happy about the fact he couldn’t tell me. 

“And they don’t want to kill me, steal me, take my blood, or kidnap me?” 

“No. As I said, I can come into the restaurant with you, otherwise I’ll wait outside until you’re done.” 

“Ok then. Fine, whatever. If that's the case, then I trust you. I’ll go.” 

“You trust me?” Eric sounded surprised.

“Yes.”

“That’s… crazy, Sookie.” 

“I don’t think so.” Where that surety had come from, I didn't know. But it was there. Maybe it arrived when he’d made small talk with Gran at the kitchen table or maybe it was when he sat silently with me on the couch tonight, waiting until I could speak. But maybe it was just there, sprung into existence, the night I left the palace or even earlier, when I'd first met him. I knew my track record with vampires was far from stellar, yet somehow I knew Eric wouldn’t intentionally steer me wrong. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said after he parked my car around the back of the farmhouse next to Gran’s old Ford Escort. I saw Gran’s light still on in her bedroom. 

“Fine. See you tomorrow." I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed it wasn’t a real date. Maybe vampires didn’t date. The question lingered on the tip of my tongue, daring me to ask it, but I instead took the keys Eric proffered. He looked at me expectantly, as if sensing my thoughts and the moment stretched out between us.

“Do you wish you could read my mind?” he asked. He hand closed around mine. The keys were cool in my grip, as was his touch. 

“No,” I said emphatically. “Do you wish you could read mine?” 

“So much it pains me.” 

I laughed softly and leaned up to press my lips to his. We kissed serenely at first, but it didn't take long for things to become more urgent. He was like a cool drink and I was the most parched woman on earth. His hand found my thigh and began sliding up toward the hem of my over-sized t-shirt; the light brush of his fingers lit a fiery trail on my skin. I stopped Eric’s hand before it disappeared under my shirt and past the point of no return. Eric made a sound of protest. 

“Good night, Eric.” He was sinful, and I was becoming a very weak woman.

I managed to evade Gran and escape through the backdoor to the bathroom without being spotted. I showered and, with my towel tucked tightly around me, I stood over the bathroom basin and hand-washed my Merlotte’s t-shirt. I gave up after a futile ten minutes. The shirt was ruined.

* * * 

When Gran asked the next day, I told her I had plans that night with Eric. And… I didn’t exactly disabuse her of the notion that it was a date. I mean, it would’ve been easy enough to tell her the truth: “Hey Gran, I’m meeting someone who can tell me something about my telepathy”, but I hesitated and held my tongue. For one, she was over the moon I seemed to have actually gained a life despite having been kidnapped for two years, and secondly, well, it was hard to explain. Call it intuition.

I went into Merlotte's mid-morning to help with unloading stock and worked through the lunch shift. The afternoon proved to be a rather lazy one, however. I suntanned on the lawn at home for a couple of hours when the sun decided to peek out from behind the thick clouds. It was cooler weather, probably too cool for tanning, but I still had Vitamin D to catch up on. As the evening approached, I showered and started to get ready for the evening's plans.

Upon searching my wardrobe, it turned out I didn’t have a cocktail dress. After a lot of hemming and hawing, I chose black dress slacks, which I had to cinch in place with a slim leather belt, and a blue silk shirt that made my eyes pop. I left my hair out for once, curling the ends slightly and wore some gold stud earrings I’d inherited from Mom. Done. Came up better than I thought.

Eric arrived a few minutes early and his gaze warmed appreciably when I opened the door. Gran sent us off, sternly making Eric promise to keep me safe and have me home at a reasonable hour. 

“I didn’t tell her about why we're going out tonight,” I said, as Eric grimaced his way down the driveway. Evidently, the Corvette was too low for the rutted road. 

“She acts like you’re 16 and I’m your first love interest,” he said. “By the way, have I told you your driveway is shit?” His accent was more distinct than I’d ever noticed. 

“She would be right. And yes, you told me just last night and not for the first time.” 

Eric gave me the side-eye. “You’re 16?” 

“No!” I said and batted him on the thigh. “But I’ve never really had a man in my life.” 

“Ever?” 

“Ever.” I tried to shrug lightly as if it didn’t bother me. Which it didn’t, most of the time. “My little 'gift', as you so charmingly like to call it, precludes any chance of me having a boyfriend. There’s been a couple potential guys, but the moment I touch them it’s like plugging into a stereo of everything I never wanted to hear.” 

“Ah.” 

“Exactly. Men are filthy.” I cracked a grin, but Eric was quite serious, staring ahead. I nearly asked him what he was thinking but held my tongue. It seemed counter-intuitive. 

To fill the silence, I told Eric about my day. I told him how I helped Sam unload the deliveries that morning at the bar and of Sam’s continual headache with the supplier not sending the full shipment and needing to chase them down later to deliver the rest. Eric offered to give me the name and details of the folks he used at the bar, which was unexpectedly thoughtful. I jotted down the details on the back of a napkin I found in my purse and thanked him. 

He asked how busy lunches typically were at the bar. I suppose he had no way of knowing. Lunchtimes would have to be an untapped market potential that a vampire entrepreneur couldn’t easily break into. It had been a quiet lunch shift, actually. Although a small crew did come in from Norcross, the local lumber mill. I actually got chatting with the boss, Calvin, and was surprised to learn through our conversation that he was Crystal’s father.

“Do you know much about Hotshot?" I asked Eric. "The little town just north of Bon Temps.” 

“The were-panther community?” 

“Were-panther? They’re were-panthers?” Somehow it surprised me. I just couldn’t picture Crystal turning into a panther. Maybe a fox. Or a weasel. “My brother Jason is married to a girl from Hotshot. I met her father Calvin at work today.” 

Now it was Eric’s turn to look surprised. “Calvin Norris is their pack leader.” 

“Huh. Well, there you go.” He certainly exuded an air of authority. I just figured it was because he was their boss. “The weirdest thing was that the entire time we were talking, he was just radiating guilt. It was like it was wafting off him in fumes.” 

“You can’t read the thoughts of weres?”

“Not clearly. I get a sense of their emotions, sometimes the odd snatch of their thoughts.” 

“Why do you think he was guilty?” 

“I don’t know.” I chewed on my lip.

“Maybe he planned to dine and dash?” 

I burst out in laughter. “Maybe. He wouldn’t be the first to try.” 

We pulled outside a restaurant named Les Deux Poissons that was situated next to a row of high-end boutiques that looked over the river. We were in the fancy part of Shreveport, a part I hadn’t had much of a chance or reason to ever explore. Mansions, well-groomed lawns and the types of people who didn’t really mix with backwater barmaids like myself. Eric’s car fit right in with the others in the car park, however. I flipped the sun-visor down and adjusted my hair in the mirror. I didn’t know if I needed to be nervous, but I was all kinds of nervous now. Eric leaned over the console, flipped the visor back up and unclipped my seatbelt.

“You look beautiful, Sookie, you don’t need to worry.” We were close, noses nearly touching. “Do you consider me a love interest?” he asked quietly, bringing me back to our earlier conversation. My eyes widened. 

“I don’t think love is quite the term.” 

His closed the distance between us and his bottom lip grazed against mine, and it felt like sparks might literally start flying. Lust? Mm, definitely, yes. Fondness? Yes. Yearning…? We kissed deeply and I lost myself for a moment. It was easy to do. We parted and judging by his hazy expression, Eric was just as affected as I was. I wiped his lips with my thumb. “You’ve got lipstick on you.” 

He smirked and grabbed my hand, kissing my thumb in a way that was entirely inappropriate. 

“I better go in,” I told him reluctantly relieving my thumb from his mouth. Oh my Lord, was that the window steaming up behind him? 

“Want me to escort you?” 

“I’m fine. I’d be too afraid we wouldn’t make it past that dark alley down there.” Anyways, I’d faced worse things than walking into a restaurant alone. 

Inside the front door, a small fountain sat in the middle of the restaurant foyer with a large chandelier suspended above it. The burbling of the fountain water refracted off the chandelier and it cast shimmering streams of light across the ceiling and wall. Simply put, it was splendid. All of it. And I was a fish out of water.

“Do you have a reservation?” asked a gorgeous statuesque woman beside a podium. She had large hazel eyes, her hair shaved close to her head, and she wore a forest green velvet dress that fit her like a second skin. 

“I’m here to meet someone.” 

“Ah, the older gentleman,” she said knowingly, and my stomach flip-flopped. I had a profound feeling this was going to be a life-changing event. As she led me around a black screen to the dining area, I considered one last look over my shoulder. But I shucked the feeling right away. Whatever was coming, I’d meet my fate head-on. 

When I emerged from the restaurant, what felt like hours later, Eric was still waiting. He’d parked under a streetlight, his nose buried in a book. He got out and opened my car door for me, and I could tell the instant the fairy smell hit him. 

“Hold your horses,” I told him. I got into my seat and shut the door. He seemed no better when he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Sookie,” he murmured, trailing kissing along my neck. “When you smell like that, I just want to fuck you and bite you and rub myself all over you.” Lord save me. I swallowed hard. It was hard not to picture what that might look like, but I had bigger fish to fry. I leaned back in my seat to gain as much distance from him. His eyes were half-lidded in ecstasy.

“I need you to snap out of it and tell me everything you know about fairies.” I looked down at the card Niall had given me with his phone number. “And maybe take me to the nearest Walmart.” It was time I finally bought myself a cell phone. 

Eric and I wandered the aisles of the Walmart Supercenter, making our way slowly to the technology section. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about his presence in your life,” Eric said. 

“So I just have to worry about all the fairies that might have something against him?” I huffed. Not only did I have to worry about vampire monarchies, apparently I had to worry about warring factions of fairy clans too.

“You said he promised to keep you a secret.” 

“You know he had no idea where my telepathy comes from. Apparently, according to Niall, it’s not a fairy trait.” 

Fairies. Fucking fairies! It was like something out of a bizarro Grimm's fairy-tale Twilight Zone crossover. 

“You’re an anomaly.” He smiled as if this pleased him greatly. 

“Keep looking at me like that and I might mistake you for your Queen.” This sobered him up. “Do you think she knew?” 

“Perhaps, Andre was known for his keen sense of smell.” I made a fake gagging sound and Eric chuckled. 

Eric initially proved to be quite helpful in picking a cell phone. My budget was next to nothing, but thankfully the carrier that I’d heard to have the best reception in Bon Temps had a few pre-paid cells at my price point. I was deciding between a $30 Nokia and a $50 no-name brand that had better features when Eric pulled me away to look at a phone six times the price. 

“What do you reckon?” he said. “It’s got a camera and color screen. More memory if anyone needs to send you photos.” 

“Who needs to send me photos? Besides, this is way out of my budget.” It was a bright red Motorola flip phone and extremely snazzy looking. I’d seen them around.

“I’ll buy it,” he said. 

“Oh, no you won’t.” I placed the phone back on its spot on the stand and glared at the attendant who was approaching us. I was no charity case. I’d get by just fine with a cheapie. 

“Not out of my own pocket,” he said. “As a business expense.” 

I scoffed. “Sounds like a bit of a reach. How is that a business expense?” 

“You helped me at the club last night.” 

“A one-time thing.” 

“It wouldn’t have to be.” 

I stared at him hard. “What are you suggesting?”

“You have a unique set of skills. They are useful for my business ventures. You deserve reasonable compensation when they’re being utilized.” 

“Like a job?” 

“Like a consultant.” 

I crossed my arms and chewed this over. “How much are we talking?” He ran some ballpark numbers by me that caused me to erupt in a mini coughing-fit. “That’s what you consider reasonable compensation?” 

“We can negotiate higher.”

“You’re a sicko!” I pushed him lightly. “That’s way too much!” 

“I can have a contract drawn up.” 

“I haven’t said yes.” 

“_Yet._ The contract will give you time to consider and negotiate the terms. Think of the phone for now as compensation for your work at the club so far.”

“That was done in return for glamouring Gran.” 

“I undid the glamour of one individual. You read the minds of many of my staff. It will take more than one night and hasn't exactly been easy.” 

I grimaced thinking of my close encounter with synthetic blood the night before. I then sighed and looked up to the ceiling. Lord help me. 

“It can’t interfere with my other job,” I said. “And having a phone won’t be an excuse to call me at all hours for any reason.” 

His face lit up and he flagged down the clerk. I exhaled heavily and looked back down at the cheap selections I’d been considering. What had I just agreed to? 

I stared hard at the Motorola box as he drove me back to Bon Temps. I was actually a little excited to plug it in and give it a try. I’d always wanted my own cell. At my insistence, Eric bought the phone outright, and I purchased a pre-paid sim card so then I could cover the cost of the phone charges. It seemed only right. And it provided me with a degree of autonomy. He wouldn’t be receiving my phone bill or be able to hold it over my head if I decided to renege on our little deal. At worst, I’d just save my money and buy the phone off him directly. 

“What do I say to Gran?” I said, mostly to myself. Somehow, Eric knew straight away I wasn’t talking about my new cell.

“I find it remarkable that she kept your heritage secret from you for this long. Unless she didn’t know?”

“Oh, she knew,” I said bitterly. “You kept a secret too.” He’d had help, big help, in getting me out of Sophie Anne’s clutches and hadn’t mentioned hide or hair of it. I couldn't hold it against him, but it hurt a little.

“What did Niall tell you?” 

“That he approached you. Apparently, my fairy godmother—” I stopped to let out an incredulous laugh, it was too stupid to even say out loud “—apparently she couldn’t reach me in the trenches, since they’re lined in iron or whatever. So he contacted you. He said you two have 'a history'. Did he meet with you before or after we’d met?” 

“After.” 

“Would you have gotten me out otherwise?” 

“I was poking around at the time to see why the Queen was keeping you there.” It wasn’t exactly an answer to my question.

“And you never worked out why she did?” 

“It didn't really matter in the end. You didn't deserve to be in there.”

I looked ahead into the night as the lights of the freeway sped past us. I knew. I knew why now, why she kept me. Not that it made much difference. What's done was done. I told Eric to pull off Hummingbird Road into the driveway before mine. It was a circular driveway; Jesse Compton’s old place. 

“You can walk me home across the cemetery,” I explained. “Save the undercarriage of your car. And your moaning.” 

Eric sidled up to me, arm around my shoulder as we walked. Despite how nice that was, I stepped outside his grasp to go and inspect my family’s graves. The Compton and Stackhouse homesteads were separated by Sweet Home Cemetary. It held quite the collection of past generations of Stackhouse's, not mention the more recent ones: Mom and Dad, Grandpa, Aunt Linda —and now Hadley too. Hadley’s gravestone was simple and understated. Probably all Jason and Gran could afford.

“Niall said he didn’t tell you about what my connection to him is,” I said to Eric, brushing some of the fall leaves away from the foot of Hadley’s grave. 

“Beyond your part-fairyness?” Eric suddenly moved into view, and I looked up from where I knelt. 

“He’s my great-grandfather.” 

His face remained perfectly still. Unnaturally still. “You are the descendant of the Prince of Fairies.” 

“Surprise,” I said in a flat voice with jazz hands.

“Well that would explain why he threatened to go to war if I couldn’t secure your release.” 

War?! I stood up suddenly. I shook my head. “Alright! I’m done. I’ve reached my quota of batshit crazy things I’ve heard tonight. War? You're fucking kidding me!" I began pacing back and forth. "An entire supernatural species would go to war against y’all for—for me?” I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the sensation of the stress headache barreling my way. “I need to go. I need to get home. Because this is too much, too much! I might just, I might just…” I turned on the spot and looked at Jesse Compton’s abandoned plantation home. “I might smash a window. That Bill guy owns old Jesse’s place now, right?” 

“Correct.” 

I walked with purpose back toward the rundown mansion, scooped up a rock and threw it with all my might. The window burst apart with a loud shatter, and I let out a whoop. Take that, Bill. 

“You’re a curious creature, Sookie.” Eric was beside me again.

“Urgh—don’t remind me!” I picked up another rock and aimed it at another window. With the next smash, an owl emerged from the eaves and took off into the night with a startled shriek. Eric caught my hand before I threw a third rock. 

“I don’t feel like glamouring law enforcement tonight.” 

I let out an indignant huff and dropped the rock. “Well, let me know when you do.” 

Eric picked up my shopping bag and purse from where I’d left it beside Hadley’s tombstone, then zipped back to me at vampire speed, scooping me up. I cried out as he spun me around and glided us over the top of the gravestones back toward home. 

“It’s not all bad,” he said. “You have your family, your home, your freedom.” 

When he set me down at the edge of my yard, I was crying into his shirt. Not just crying, blubbering. He stood, ramrod straight, letting me cry my heart out.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, my word muffled by the fabric of his white shirt. “It’s been a crazy night.” Heck, the last two years had been insane. “I just can’t believe Gran had an affair. That’s not the Gran I know.” I still couldn’t quite believe it. I’d accidentally heard a few odd things over the years, picked them up unintentionally from her thoughts and immediately discounted them, cast them from my mind, forgotten them. I _know_ I’d heard her think of Fintan. Though I never knew – never would’ve guessed – the significance of who he was.

“Oh no,” I said. I fished a tissue out of my purse and blotted his shirt. “My mascara ruined your shirt.” 

“I have more,” he said, and I let out a wobbly laugh. The blotting was useless, so I used the tissue to wipe under my eyes and blow my nose instead. “I have to get back to the club,” Eric said. “Will you be okay?” I got the feeling he wasn’t asking if I would be okay in the figurative sense, but in a more literal, ‘Will you physically collapse in a heap if I leave right now?’

“Go,” I told him and patted his chest. “You can’t neglect work. I’ll talk to you soon.” He wrapped me up in his arms and laid one on me. The kiss was deep and intense; my tears were quickly forgotten. My bag and purse slipped to the ground and my hands roamed his back, traveling gradually south before landing on what must’ve been the most perfect butt I’d ever had the opportunity to feel (though admittedly the only one).

“I very much look forward to tasting you one day soon, Sookie,” he said, trailing a line of kisses toward my ear. I shivered and he was gone. 

Gran was in bed reading when I let myself in through the front door, I called out to tell her I was home safely and quickly retreated to my room. My emotions were still on shaky ground. I needed to be feeling more sure of myself before I could talk to her about everything I’d learned. Enough had changed in my life since coming home. I couldn’t deal with another thing. 

I got ready for bed and plugged in my new phone to the charger. It turned on immediately and beeped, giving me a fright. _1 new text message_. It was a photo, a professional one of Eric posed on a bed, nude and holding onto the edge of a long white fur robe. A robe that only _just_ concealed his crown jewels. Oh boy. His long blond hair was carefully windswept around his shoulders with glittery snowflakes falling all around him. Eric’s gaze bored through the screen full of promise and sin. I knew that look. He’d looked at me like that not even ten minutes ago. More importantly, however, his body was turned just slightly toward the camera to flaunt the curve of what was indeed a world-class butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some phrases in this chapter are slightly borrowed from a couple of the books.


	15. XV

Andy Bellefleur was at the bar eating lunch—Burger Lafayette with a side of deep-fried pickles—and he seemed intent on catching my eye. Every time I’d approach, though, he’d just get flustered and fuss about with his food or pretend to look busy on his cell phone. I chose not to pry into his mind. My shields were slowly growing their strength back, and I was full of energy today. I wanted flex those muscles and see how long I could keep ‘em in place. Having strong shields was an important part of surviving my job, and frankly, I never took the time to really focus on them before I'd been kidnapped. I was different now. My thoughts were enough to contend with these days, I didn't want to have to deal with others if I didn't have to. 

I poured a beer for Jane Bodehouse, who was in high spirits and well on her way to getting drunk. As I walked back past Andy, he fumbled with his coffee and spilled it across the bar top. 

_Alright. Enough was enough. _

“What is it, Andy,” I said, wiping up the mess with a rag. “I can see you’re bursting at the seams and it’s not because you over ate.” 

I wasn’t exactly friends with Bon Temps only police detective. In fact, he’d always regarded me with a sense of wariness or even outright loathing. He was a lawman and I was Crazy Sookie, lumped in with all the other suspect townsfolk that might just one day go off like a powder keg and cause trouble for him. The fact that Jason Stackhouse was my brother didn’t help me none either. I hated that he thought of me this way. But it wasn’t my job to change the way people viewed me. Especially when I hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“Ah, shit,” he said mopping up the spilled coffee off his lap with a napkin. He turned red from the collar of his plaid shirt right up to the top of his shiny balding head. I handed him a stack of napkins and poured him another cup of coffee, nudging it toward him expectantly. “It's just work stuff,” he explained. 

“Mmhmm…” I murmured encouragingly and leaned my hip against the bar. He wouldn't be the first to pour their heart out to me over this bar.

“Got a lady in lock-up, waiting to charge her, and it’s been a hassle getting the facts and evidence together.”

“Charge her with what, exactly?”

He dropped his voice so he wouldn’t be overhead. “Domestic abuse battery and attempted murder.” 

I stepped across to the little glass-washer under the bar and began unpacking the freshly cleaned beer glasses. “So what’s preventing you?” 

“She swears up and down she didn’t do it, and her boyfriend, the victim, is adamant it was her. He’s beat up real bad, but we got no evidence other than his testimony.”

“How does that differ from other domestic violence cases? I thought victim testimony _was_ evidence.” 

“She’s real convincing, she’s either an actress worthy of an Oscar or innocent. She’s getting real antsy too, I can only keep her another night and once I release her, she’ll run for the hills. I know it.” 

I reluctantly lowered my shields and listened in on his thoughts. Things were not good in the world of Andy Bellefleur. His was catching heat for not solving Lafayette’s murder, that and his poor clearance rate—that is, the amount of cases he was solving—was reflecting poorly on him. 

“Sherriff Dearborn hassling you?” I asked. Bud Dearborn was good people, and a better sheriff. He’d been good friends with my father too. So the idea of him chewing out Andy for poor work performance wasn’t exactly far-fetched. Even though Bon Temps was a little podunk town in the middle of nowhere, Sheriff Dearborn wouldn't let substandard work slide.

“I’m grasping at straws,” Andy said. He then looked at me somehow both sheepish and pointed.

“You think I’m a straw?” I said, pointing to my chest in bewilderment.

“As I recall it, you’re good at getting a read on people.”

“I’m not psychic or a medium, if that’s what you think.” 

He grimaced as if ashamed he had to stoop so low to even ask me. 

“Oh, quit your grousing,” I said. I threw the wet rag into the sink. “I’ll go and meet her if you think it might help.” 

“What was that all about?” asked Holly as I passed her to clear some tables in the dining area. She looked over my shoulder, regarding Andy with curiosity. They’d dated for a brief period, once upon a time.

“Beats me. Something’s up with this town. Bon Temps isn’t the safe place I remember it to be.” 

Holly hummed in agreement. I plucked clear from her thoughts that she thought the exact same thing. In fact, she thought something magical and supernatural flowed through the metaphorical groundwater of Bon Temps. And she sensed this because she was a… a witch? Well, blow me down. I’d had no idea. She caught me staring and I quickly averted my eyes, but she was onto me.

“I don’t like it when you do that, Sookie.” It wasn't in Holly's nature to mince words. She told it like she saw it.

“Sorry.” Some of the more astute people in Bon Temps had somewhat of an inkling about what I could do – like Andy, for example. Holly was one of those people too, and for whatever reason she thought I could only read her mind when I was looking her in the eye. A little like vampire glamour. I mean looking in people’s eyes helped, a little like holding their hand, but I could read most people just fine without even having to touch or look at them. Or be in the same room. 

I went home after my lunch shift finished and showered and changed, then met Andy back at the station. I was glad to not have an excuse to be at home while Gran was there. Not that Gran thought I was behaving strangely. In fact, quite the opposite. She was extremely pleased I was keeping busy. But I was trying hard to keep up appearances until I found a way to talk about what I’d learned from my alleged great-grandfather. 

Andy led me through the station, and I stopped dead in my tracks as we passed through the open doorway leading to cells. My feet stuck like cement in the ground, and I was suddenly hot and cold all over. 

“I can’t go in there,” I said. My voice sounded disembodied, floating around me like a fog.

“That’s where she is.” 

“I mean I can’t. I literally can’t.” I backed away a step, taking a ragged breath. “Do you have an interrogation room?” I tried to grasp for a clear thought, a calm thought, but my mind raced. My pulse raced. I backed up even further, and Andy looked at me strangely. I saw myself through his eyes. I was pale and ghostly.

“What’s up with you?” When I didn’t respond, he directed me to wait in the interrogation room behind Bud’s office. 

A girl, who couldn’t be a day older than twenty, was led in by Andy a few minutes later. She sat down with a plop on the chair opposite me and regarded me with suspicion. I had managed to scrape a sense of stability together somehow in the intervening minutes.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“This is Sookie Stackhouse,” Andy said, sitting down beside me. “She said she might be able to corroborate some of what you told me earlier.” 

“Oh!” She visibly perked up. 

“What your name?” I asked.

“Junie Fletcher.” Junie’s hair sat around her head like a broad halo of fine dark curls and she was dressed in black leggings with a hole in the knee and a Bon Temps’ high school t-shirt, featuring the football team’s insignia. Her shirt was stained and rumpled though, and her brown complexion looked unnaturally pale under the fluorescent lighting. She looked at me with a gaze I recognized. A mix of nerves, sleep deprivation and a state of numb shock. I was remembered that feeling intimately. Her eyes were once my eyes, back when I'd first been taken by Sophie-Anne.

“Are you from Bon Temps?” I asked.

“Sure. I grew up in the little trailer park up behind the elementary school. I live on Berry Street now, near the All Faiths Church. You know it?” 

I nodded. It wasn’t a bad part of town. Older homes, mostly families in that area.

“Tell Sookie your version of events.” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said, sitting up straighter in her seat. “I came home last night and found Jock in the dark, cowering in the corner. Absolutely coated in blood and beaten black and blue. He sees me and starts freaking out. Then all-a sudden I’m being dragged down here and arrested for battery and attempted murder. But I did nothin'!” 

“You didn’t see who attacked him? Anything suspicious?” 

“No. Not a thing. But...things have been weird at home recently.”

Andy scoffed at this point and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “Here we fuckin’ go.” 

“What?”

“I thought we were being stalked,” Junie said to me. “Things moving around in the house when we were out. Locked doors unlocking on their own. I thought I saw someone looking in through the windows one night.” 

“She means a ghost,” Andy said. 

“No!” she said. “I said it felt like we were being haunted. _Felt?_ There’s a difference.” This girl was fed-up with Andy and authority in general. “Someone was messing with us and we didn’t know who. We’d both been on edge for ages. I've had a deputy visit twice, but y'all didn't take us seriously! Thought we was kids just jokin' around. Then things got tense with Jock and I..."

“You were fighting?” I asked. She nodded, thinking back to some big blow outs she’d had with her boyfriend.

“I have exams next week. I don’t cope with stress well at the best of time. So it’s been rough. Now, instead of studying, I’m stuck here. When really, I should be in hospital looking after Jock!” 

“You ain't going 100 yards near him, missy,” Andy growled. She slumped down in her seat, her glassy eyes welling over with tears.

“Can you afford a lawyer?” I asked. 

“Sookie!” Andy admonished. 

“Surely he’s informed you of your rights,” I told Junie. I wasn't precisely sure what those rights were, but I needed to make sure that he wasn't keeping her in the dark here.

“Yeah…He has.” She sniffled. “I can’t afford a lawyer. I can barely afford to put myself through community college.” 

“You can have access to legal aid, surely. Can’t she, Detective Bellefleur?.”

“Well, yes but—” 

“Good. Well, I’ll ask Deputy Kenya about it on my way out, she'll make sure you're sorted out with help if you need it.” I fished a packet of tissues from my purse and passed it along to Junie as Andy escorted back to her cell. 

“Well?” he said when he returned.

“It wasn’t her.” 

“Ah, damn,” he said and sighed. “Time to go canvass the neighborhood, then.” 

“Shouldn’t you be doing that anyway?” 

“Well yes,” he said with a grunt. He was getting real annoyed by my presence and wondered how politely to ask me to leave. He'd just been secretly hoping I'd confirm Junie was the perpetrator and send me off on my merry way. “The deputies did yesterday, but we’re stuck if he’s staying it’s her and she’s innocent. We have to see if neighbors can tell us anything else.” 

“You don’t want me to check Jock too?” 

“How accurate’s your what-do-ya-call-it?” he asked.

“My 'what-do-ya-call-it' is one hundred percent.” Andy looked at me skeptically. I chewed my lip, wondering if my next move was the right choice. There were some bells that couldn’t be un-rung, you know. “You’re wondering if I’m BS. But really, deep down you’re actually worried that if I _am_ legit, that I might I learn about out that time you drove home drunk and busted the front panel of your patrol car by hitting a ditch. You told Bud you hit a deer.” 

Andy turned a strange shade of green. I picked up my purse and slung it over my shoulder. “This is why I don’t tell people,” I said, “because then y’all look at me like I got the plague.” 

I left the interrogation room and Andy caught up to me in the car park. “Come ride along with me when I visit Jock.”

I checked my watch. It was getting close to four and I had jobs I needed to get done at home before I went back for the dinner shift at five. “I gotta work.”

“Tomorrow morning then.”

I crossed my arms and gave him a hard look. “The way I hear it, police pay psychics for their help.” 

“I thought you weren’t psychic.” 

“I’m not. I helped you though, didn’t I?”

“Not exactly. Still don’t know what the heck happened to her boyfriend.” 

I shrugged. “Not my problem... Not unless you paid me to make it my problem.” Would you look at me hustling? Sookie Stackhouse, regular old telepathic consultant to lawmen big and small. 

“I can’t afford to pay you.”

“Fine. You can owe me a favor.” I already knew he couldn’t pay me. But if I was going to do this then I was going to make damn well sure I’d reap some benefit from it. 

“I can’t give you a get out of jail free card.” 

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Though I’m sure it would’ve come in handy for Jason back when he was arrested for suspicion of murder for Dawn and Maudette’s deaths. “More of a… If I ever need help then you’ll do everything in your power.”

“Fine. We got a deal.” We shook on it, and I felt marginally better than when I’d agreed to work for Eric. Marginally. 

* * * 

I only worked a short dinner shift, which meant I clocked out at 8pm, and my own dinner was still waiting for me warm on the stove when I got home. I ladled myself a big bowl of soup with a hunk of cornbread and joined Gran on the couch in the living room. 

“You’ll be picking up any crumbs you drop,” she said distractedly, eyes on the television. It was a repeat of an old Diagnosis Murder episode. 

“Yes, ma’am.” I toed my socks off and dug my toes into the rug and then let out a murmur of contentment with the first mouthful of soup. Gran reached over and patted my leg affectionately. 

Now, this was all exactly as I remembered it. Gran, the old repeat playing on TV, the rug under my toes, the homey food. I looked at Gran from the corner of my eyes. When would be the right time to ask her about what I’d learned from Niall earlier in the week? The last thing I wanted was for Niall to show up unannounced and then deal with the revelation and fallout that way. But I couldn’t tonight. I’d worked a split shift and was so tired my legs and brain felt like soup too. 

“Dick van Dyke is such a handsome man,” Gran said, taking a sip of her sweet tea. 

“It’s not fair that men get more handsome as they age.” Niall Brigant had been one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked primly.

“Nothing!” I said with a little laugh. “You know you’re beautiful, Gran.” 

A man was talking to Dick on screen, they were arguing over some incident with a broken door near the scene of the murder Dick was investigating. Gran tutted. “I think that young fellow did it.” 

“No way. It’s always the most famous guest actor that’s the murderer. Otherwise why’d they bother taking the part? It’d be the guy next to him. I remember him from some old 90s movie.” 

“Oh yes, he was on some of the newer episodes of The Waltons. You know, I think you’re right.” 

My phone began vibrating in the back of my shorts pocket, letting me know I had a message, but I waited until I’d finished eating—and watching the episode—before retreating to the kitchen. As it turned out, the murderer was exactly who we suspected. I opened my phone.

_Bored. Patrons are especially annoying tonight. What ru doing?_

I smirked at my phone; my fingers poised ready to type a response. I flipped it shut instead. Let him wait a bit. I showered again, this time washing my hair since I hadn’t bothered earlier in the day and climbed into bed before responding. 

_Early night. Busy day 2day_

_:(_ was Eric’s response a split second later, followed by: _Come and keep me company. _

_I can’t. I’d make it as far the end of my street b4 falling asleep behind the wheel._

_Ru in bed right now?_

_Maybe…_

_What ru wearing?___

_Something SUPER sexy _

My phone began ringing immediately and I declined his call with a laugh. I took a photo of the white nightshirt I was wearing, being careful to stretch it out so I could capture the cartoon Tweety Bird image on the shirt's front in all its glory. I sent it to him. 

_Tease!_

I replied with a winking smiley face. We kept texting until I fell asleep midway through our conversation. He flirted mercilessly, but it was fun. 

Andre arrived in my dreams again. Just like last night. Just like the night before that and that. I was back in my cot, the smell of damp on the concrete floor distinct and unforgettable. 

_ _“Give it to me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. _ _

_ _“No,” I moaned and then I was twisting my wrist from his grip. Pulling and heaving, but I wasn’t strong enough. Never strong enough. _ _

_ _“You’re mine, Sookie. Mine…” He tugged my wrist to his mouth and bit savagely. The cell’s walls slowly closed in on me like a bad horror movie—shrinking along with my sense of identity and self until it distilled my fear into pure concentrated desperation and panic. I cried out and he pinned me. I could feel the blood drawing from me, slipping out of me like a disembodied river sucking at my soul. I was dying. Andre growled, his voice low like a vibration that went on and on and on. I fought him wildly, begging him to stop. _ _

_ _I awoke with a cry and sat up in bed, gasping for air. I stumbled to my feet and stood, panting. The vibration continued and with a start I realized it wasn’t Andre but the sound of my cell phone on silent reverberating against the mattress. _ _

_ _Eric was calling. I fumbled with the phone and declined the call. I sat back on the bed and flicked on the lamp. _ _

_ _I was so fucking over those dreams. _ _

_ _I had a drink of water from the water bottle beside my bed and focused on relaxing my mind. I’d only been home for two weeks. I had to give myself time. But when? How long until I could shake my ghosts away? I heard a light tap at my window and jumped like a startled cat. I got up and drew back the curtains only to be greeted by the sight of Eric. _ _

_ _“What are you doing here?” I whispered when I opened the window._ _

_ _“What are you doing?” he asked. “Your heart’s beating like a drum. And you're not picking up your phone.” _ _

_ _I clenched my jaw and shook my head stiffly. The dream was still fresh, half of me was still there in that horrid cell, living that experience, while the other half of me trying todrag myself back into reality. I couldn’t even talk about it. _ _

_ _“Did you know you had a Were prowling around your home?” _ _

_ _“Wait—what?” _ _

_ _“There are tracks around the perimeter of your yard at the back. A big cat.”_ _

_ _“Panther?”_ _

_ _“Probably.”_ _

_ _“Hang on, give me a minute.” I left him at the window and wrapped my self in my robe and slipped into my tennis shoes. I’d somehow luckily been able to scrub out the synthetic blood stains from my shoes, unlike my poor Merlotte’s shirt. _ _

_ _Eric lifted me through the window and glided me over to the edge of the yard. He set me down behind the veggie patch. Gran and I had spent a few good hours in the vegetable garden earlier that week, digging up the old summer crops and planting kale, silver beet and lettuce in their place. The last of the fall offerings before winter set in. _ _

_ _Eric looked at me warily. _ _

_ _“I’m not going to start crying, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said. The night air and his presence had managed to sweep away the last of my dreamworld. I shivered and drew the robe more tightly around me._ _

_ _“Good,” he said. “It’s over here.” He took me by the hand and led me to the edge of the forest that lined the yard. The moon was full, and I could see the rough outline of a paw print when he crouched beside it. “Can you see it, or is it too dark for you?” _ _

_ _ “I can see.” I knelt beside him._ _

_ _“This is the clearest track. The panther moved back and forth along here a while before heading on.” _ _

_ _“I wonder if it was Crystal… But why?”_ _

_ _“It’s male.” _ _

_ _“How can you tell?”_ _

_ _“Males are significantly larger, plus he urinated over there.” He nodded toward a bush beside a hickory tree. “He’s marking territory. It smells distinctly male."_ _

_ _“Gross.” I stood up and walked over to it, mentally searching the grounds around the house for any blips that might indicate the nightly visitor will still close by. “Well, whoever it was, they’re gone now.”_ _

_ _I had no idea what to do now. I certainly didn’t want to talk to Crystal about it, things were strained enough as it was. But I didn’t think it was smart to let it go. What if it the were-panther was a threat? Or someone casing the home? I knew how retribution-focused Were packs could be. What if someone from the panther pack had something out against Crystal or Jason? _ _

_ _“Does Jason know his wife is two-natured?” Eric asked in a thoughtful way._ _

_ _“I have no idea."_ _

_ _"Were packs don't generally approve of their members marrying non-weres." _ _

_ _"Why?" _ _

_ _"Less chance of producing a two-natured child." _ _

_ _"Maybe Jason marrying Crystal pissed someone off in the pack. I'm going to have to ask Crystal or Calvin. But why come and prowl around here?" I asked Eric and turned to him._ _

_ _Eric’s glow was especially otherworldly in the moonlight, and my breath caught in my throat. He wasn’t the picture-perfect ephemeral beauty of Niall. Eric’s beauty lay in his strong defined features which were both striking and forbidding. The kind of man you looked twice at, because he was deadly and handsome and there was no mistaking either quality. Eric’s beauty didn’t possess him... He possessed it, owned it like weapon and wielded it to his advantage._ _

_ _Eric, as if sensing the tenor of my thoughts, stood and walked slowly toward me until I was backed up against the hickory tree. _ _

_ _“Yield to me, Sookie,” he said. _ _

_ _"I..." Words failed me._ _

_ _He lifted me suddenly against the tree and we kissed, urgency catching like a fire between us. My legs wrapped around his waist, my hands tangled through his hair. He pressed himself again me, his lips at my mouth, my neck, my throat. And I could feel he was ready, very ready. Eric was big in most ways, build and personality, and it seemed all parts of him followed suit. He was like a loaded magnum. My body tingled with anticipation and excitement. I’d never felt like this with another person and I wanted him so badly, the strength of it took my breath away._ _

_ _My robe slipped open and his hands traveled up my thighs sliding my nightshirt up to my hips. I was practically bare underneath with only a pair of white cotton panties. I didn’t care. I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him. _ _

_ _“Have you ever been with a man like this?” he asked, and his teeth tugged gently at my earlobe. _ _

_ _“Never,” I whispered. I was embarrassed, though tried not to show it. I was twenty-seven. I don’t think most red-blooded women waited that long by choice. “Is that a problem? I’m sure I’ll be a fast learner.”_ _

_ _Eric was smiling when his mouth met mine again. His hand gripping my bottom stroked the skin and slid ever so slightly under my panty-line. _ _

_ _“I won’t let your first time be against a tree,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. _ _

_ _“The grass, then?” I asked hopefully. He chuckled and the sound transformed to a deep rumble of pleasure as I continued kissing his neck. Ooh, he liked that, especially when I used my teeth. His fingers slipped further under the line of my underpants and soon found my most intimate parts. I gasped as he touched me, gently probing and stroking with his fingers. I gripped his shoulders tightly and we kissed once more. _ _

_ _He touched me gently, ceaselessly, leading me on and on toward something very big and very good. I felt like I was on the edge of an enormous cliff ready to fall off into a deep unknown. _ _

_ _“Eric, yes!” I cried out and kissed him deeply. I couldn’t have him inside me, but with his fingers between my legs, his tongue in my mouth, his hand at my breast… I was falling, toppling, and it was amazing. I wrapped my arms around his neck and writhed against him. My lip scraped a fang and he groaned suddenly, sucking on it with a fierceness. And somehow that was okay too. _ _

_ _Time passed and the stars cleared from my vision. _ _

_ _“Wow…” I said breathlessly. “If that’s what it feels like when someone else does it to me, then I think I’ve been doing it all wrong!” _ _

_ _Eric laughed and lowered me slowly to my feet, still holding me firmly in place. I pulled down my nightshirt which had ridden up past my breasts._ _

_ _“I’m sorry, I didn’t make that very fun for you," I said feeling more than a little embarrassed and awkward._ _

_ _Eric eyes brightened and he took my hand placing it to his groin. “Does it feel like I didn’t enjoy myself?” Oh boy, there was a wet patch under my hand. Another aftershock of pleasure tingled through me again. He let go me and then licked his fingers, like a satisfied cat licking its paw, and I gasped in horror._ _

_ _“You are dirty!” _ _

_ _“You’re delicious, Sookie,” he said. “Your breasts are divine. Your voice is like honey.” He kissed me some more. _ _

_ _“I better go back to bed,” I said reluctantly. I couldn’t stay out in garden all night, I had to work the next day. I took Eric’s hand and walked on shaky legs back to my bedroom window. He gave me a boost and I climbed in; Eric followed in after me. “What are you doing?” I hissed. Gran was still asleep across the hall, but she’d have my hide if she knew I was sneaking men through my window at night under her roof._ _

_ _“I want to see you room.” _ _

_ _“Don’t get too excited. And be quiet.” I kicked off my shoes._ _

_ _It was the same room I’d had since moving in with Gran. I was still in a twin bed. Gran had the furniture brought over from my childhood home after my parents died to try and create a sense of normality. I’d never had a chance to update it. The décor was quite childish, pastel yellow walls, the frilly white coverlet on the bed. _ _

_ _Eric wandered through my room. He examined the softball trophies on my bookshelf, then paused to pick up a framed picture of me and Tara that was face down on my vanity. The photo was taken at our joint 21st party. Tara and I were social outcasts each in our own way. She practically grew up with me, her mother lost and largely absent due to alcoholism. We weren’t exactly popular in school or after it, but between the both of us we’d managed to scrape together a guest list big enough to throw a 21st birthday party, even though our birthdays were five weeks apart. I looked so different back then, my eyes were wide and innocent, and my smile broad and carefree. I couldn’t bear to look at that photo anymore; that was a version of me that I didn’t recognize. That Sookie no longer existed. _ _

_ _Eric laid the picture back down before picking up my perfume bottle and uncapping it. He pulled a face when he sniffed it. It was old; gone bad in the time I was gone. Shame, it was nearly full._ _

_ _I climbed into bed and yawned. Eric replaced the bottle and came over to kiss me one last time. I opened my eyes mid-kiss to see his were open too. Temptation lurked in those blue pools. I wondered what it would be like to have him bite me. I couldn't imagine it being as horrific as the way Andre had bitten me... But Andre had been a cruel and nasty individual. It seemed to me that Eric was gentle when he could be, and then passionate when he couldn't. The idea of him biting me didn't worry or frighten me. It scared me. It scared me the way sky-diving or bungee jumping scared thrill-seekers. The prospect was terrifying, but I had a feeling the execution would be thrilling. _ _

_ _“Good night, Eric.” I didn’t want him to get any ideas. _ _

_ _“Sweet dreams of me, lover.” And then he was gone, my floral curtains flapping by the open window._ _


	16. XVI

_Previously... Sookie is drawn into a mystery with detective Andy Bellefleur involving the assault of local Bon Temps' resident Jock Fortier. While an unexpected late night visit from Eric leads to the discovery of were-panther tracks around the perimeter of Sookie's home and also to some very enjoyable moments pressed up against a tree with our favorite Viking. _

It was after ten when I awoke the next morning. I hummed and stretched myself out in bed like a cat after a long nap. My muscles were stiff, but the rest of me felt good. Who would’ve thought getting to third base with a vampire was all it took to have a good night’s rest? 

The weatherman from my bedside radio informed me it would be sunny and 70 that day, so I put on my denim shorts and a thin baby blue cotton sweater. I pulled out a pair of sneakers from the back of my closet and dusted them off. I hadn't had many opportunities to wear them—I'd bought them in the month before I'd been kidnapped. They were only cheap canvas slide on shoes in white, but they were cute and comfy. 

I washed my face, cleaned my teeth, and afterward I examined my tongue in the bathroom mirror. No sign of the cut I'd inadvertently made on Eric’s fang. It hadn't bothered me last night in the heat of the moment, but now…? I shivered and pulled a face at my reflection before leaving the bathroom. The idea of letting him bite me elicited a confusing tumble of emotions. Disgust and fear and, heck, maybe a little excitement too. And that just made me feel even worse.

If Eric and I were going to be doing this—this thing, whatever it was—then I needed to get a lid on the whole biting aspect of it all. I could hardly stand a nurse drawing blood from me, how the heck would I stand a vampire biting me? I couldn't imagine a vampire would be okay with not biting their lover, if that's what we even were. I sighed my pulled my hair tight into a ponytail. I'd have to work it out sometimes but not right now. Right now, I had to hurry to meet Detective Bellefleur at Jock Fortier’s house in Bon Temps.

I grabbed an apple on my way through the kitchen and found Gran outside in the sunshine of the backyard hanging washing on the line.

“Someone's got a pep in her step,” Gran said as she pegged up a plaid tea towel. 

“Slept well,” I said and took a bite. 

Gran hummed in a faint tone of reproach. “Yes, and I'm sure it has nothing to do with your late-night visitor.” 

I froze mid-chew. 

“Please inform Mr. Northman that I expect him to leave and enter my home through either the front or backdoor—and not your bedroom window.” 

My cheeks felt as if they were on fire. “Gran, I-” 

“No excuses, Sookie. This is my home and while you live under my roof, I say what goes.” 

A flash of anger coursed through me. “So, it was no problem when you were sneaking your own boyfriend around, but when it's me, it's suddenly wrong?”

“What do you mean by that?” Gran asked curtly. She finished pegging up the next tea towel and gave me a hard look. 

“I think you know exactly what I mean." I was a grown woman, one who got a start all too late on her love life and through no fault of her own. I refused to have my love life shamed when I'd done nothing wrong. 

"No, in fact, I don't. Please enlighten me." 

"What I mean is that there's a whole other side to this family that until recently no one but you knew about. And when I say other, I mean _other_.” The second the words left my mouth I regretted it. I clapped a hand over my mouth to shut myself up. This was the last possible way I wanted to bring this up.

Gran paled and let out a soft exhale. “Oh…” She placed her handful of pegs back in the basket. “I take it Fintan has been in contact with you.” 

No,” I said with a slow shake of my head. “His father.” 

Gran didn’t know what to make of that. 

“Sookie, there's a lot you need to understand. I think you should come back inside so we can talk.” Her eyes shone with emotion, and I sighed heavily. I wasn't sure I was ready to hear what she had to say, especially when a quick brush with her thoughts confirmed what Niall had told me was true. 

“I can't right now. I have somewhere I need to be. I'll be home in a couple hours, okay?” 

She nodded, though she seemed a million miles away. 

* * *

Jock Fortier and his girlfriend Junie Odell lived in a single-story white clapboard home that had seen better days maybe a generation or even two ago. Jock invited us inside, and Andy and I sat beside one another on a creaky old tapestry couch. Through yellowed curtains, thin morning light illuminated the dank home. It smelled stale like old cigarette smoke and hopelessness. It made me antsy. All I wanted to do was jump up and throw open all the windows and curtains to let the fresh air, sunshine and current decade inside.

“Y’all want a drink of water?” he asked, “Sorry, I can’t offer you much.” 

We declined and Jock seemed relieved to not have to shift from the armchair where he’d just lowered himself down into with a wince. He was a thin, wiry guy with a mess of sandy brown hair that sat like a scraggly nest on his head. His right eye was completely swollen over and bruised, as was his lip. He’d taken a severe beating.

“I take it Junie stayed away last night,” Andy said.

“Haven’t heard from her. I left a bag of her stuff out on the street, I guess she came and got it last night when you released her.” 

Andy then introduced me formally, using the same line on Jock as he had with Junie— that I may be able to ‘corroborate’ some of his testimony. Although, this time Jock asked how that was possible. Andy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, evidently not having thought this far ahead into the conversation. Idiot. 

“I was walking past your house at the time of the assault,” I said. Unlike Andy, I'd already predicted he’d ask me this.

“Fine, well, like I told y’all yesterday… I was home alone and all of a sudden Junie was here. She was meant to be at the college library in Shreveport studying till late, but I guess she finished up early. I didn’t even hear her come in. I was on the X-Box playing a game.” He shrugged, and from his mind I gleaned he’d been playing some shooting game online with teammates, so he’d had his headphones on. “She started flicking the lights on and off and when I got up to check what was going on, she jumped me.” 

Andy kept asking him questions, and after a while my attention wandered, my eyes drawn instead to the room we were sitting in. The front door was directly off the living room. By it, sat a squat wicker basket piled with shoes and, above it, a wooden shelf holding keys and stacks of opened letters. 

“Is that where you sit when you’re playing the Xbox?” I asked, pointing to armchair Jock was currently in. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“How do you and Junie normally come and go, through the front door?” 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So you would’ve seen her had she entered through the front door on Wednesday night.” Yet she'd still caught him by surprise.

“She must’ve come through the back.” 

“Can I go take a look at your backdoor?” 

He nodded and Andy continued questioning him. I walked through to a small kitchen that resembled a ship’s galley and through a narrow laundry room to the back door. The sink was piled with laundry waiting to be washed and my feet scuffed again the ratty, abused linoleum. I paused to examine it more closely. Drops of what might have been dried blood covered the flooring like old confetti. I carefully stepped around it. 

The backdoor was dead bolted. I rattled it in place to see if it would budge. Nope, not an inch. Weird. Junie wasn’t lying, I saw in her mind that she'd let herself in through the front door. But Jock wasn't lying either. He would've plainly seen her if she'd come in through the front. How was that even possible? She said she came home through the front door to find him curled in the corner beaten black and blue. He said she arrived home through the backdoor and pounced on him. 

Neither party had been glamoured. 

I rattled the door one last time and let go. One of them had to be lying. They couldn’t both be telling the truth. Unless Jock was mistaken and who he thought was Junie was in fact someone else. But if that were the case, how could they have gotten in the house? A brass key sat on the sill of the laundry room window. I picked it up and slid it into the deadbolt lock. It sank smoothly in place and turned without resistance. I opened the door and examined the handle from the outside. There was no signs of forced entry. I wonder who else had a key? I decided to return to Andy and Jock and ask that very question. I locked everything up again, returned the key to its resting place and turned to leave, when, without warning, the door rattled in its hinges. I spun on the spot and stared agog. 

“Hello?” I peeked through the window's lace curtains. There was no one of the other side. How bizarre. The wind? The door rattled again. This time I jumped back in fright. What. On. Earth. I grabbed the handle and turned it, but of course the door didn’t budge – it was dead bolted. The handle began shaking violently under my grasp. I released it like it was on fire. 

“What in God’s green earth?” I walked backward, slowly step by step, until I was in the kitchen. My eyes trained on the back door the whole time. Without warning, the door separating the laundry room and kitchen slammed shut. I shrieked. Moving air, like a giant gust of wind, blew right through me. It knocked me clean off my feet and I landed ass-first on the floor. 

I scrabbled back to my feet and ran out into the living area. 

“Everything okay?” Andy asked standing, hand poised on the butt of the pistol holstered at his hip.

“What’s wrong with your back door?” I asked Jock.

“What do you mean?” He looked at me strangely. I could hear the hysterical tone in my voice and took a deep breath. 

“I mean, have you locked it or been near it since the night of the attack?” 

“No, I only got home this morning. I never use the backdoor.” 

“So Junie locked it up?”

“I guess...”

“She came home, let herself in through the back door – which you admitted she never does, and she bolted it behind her and then decided to attack you.” 

“I don’t know, I guess. What did you see that night?” 

I stared at him blankly, heart still racing, before the question made sense. _Oh, right._ The night I’d supposedly heard the attack.

“I didn’t see anything.” 

“Well, what did you hear when you were walking past?” 

“Uh…” I trailed off and looked at Andy, who in turn looked at me like I’d grown a second head in the few minutes I’d been out of the room. 

“I just heard yelling,” I told Jock. I glanced nervously back in the direction of the kitchen. What the heck had just happened to me? My hands were shaking, so I crossed my arms, tucking them underneath. What was it that Junie had said yesterday? That the house had felt like it was haunted? Doors moving and objects shifting? She hadn't been hysterical. She hadn't been making it up. 

“They can’t both be lying,” Andy grumbled after we’d left Jock to nurse his wounds on his own, which I gathered from his thoughts, meant playing some first person shooter on his X-Box. 

“I understand that. I can’t explain what’s going on, but it’s something hinky.” I briefly considered telling Andy about my strange encounter in the kitchen and laundry room but couldn't work out a way to phrase it that didn't make me sound crazy too.

“Vampires?” 

“No.” I shook my head. “I can sense when they’ve messed with someone’s memories.” 

“Well one of them is lying. It has to be her. He was conscious during the attack. He saw her. If you’re telling me his memory is true, then there’s no faking that.” 

“You can’t lock her up without proof,” I said.

“Testimony is proof in the court of law.”

“I get that... but she didn’t do it. I know she didn’t. You can conscionably charge her.”

“Yes, I can. You told me he wasn’t lying. That he remembers her attacking him.” 

“Junie couldn’t fake her memories of not attacking him. Why does he get the benefit of the doubt?” 

“Because maybe she blacked out in her rage. Or maybe she’s one of those nutcases that believes her own lies. She wouldn’t be the first.” 

“Jesus, Andy. This goes beyond your clearance rate or Bud riding your ass for poor work performance.” I stared back at the house. Sure enough, Jock was inside where we'd left him, back on his Xbox, his thoughts slowly turning fuzzy from the pain meds he’d taken partway through our conversation. “Something about this stinks. You can’t mess with someone’s future like that if you’re not sure.” 

Andy scoffed. “Welcome to law enforcement, Sookie.” 

I left Andy standing there and decided to walk the few blocks back to the station. If Andy wanted to close the case, then I was determined make sure it was closed properly. That meant I needed the time and space to think.

* * *

Gran had baked my favorite—pecan pie. When I returned home, the whole house smelled of warm caramel and buttery pastry. We sat on the front porch on the small three-piece wicker patio setting Gran must've moved around from the back garden specifically for this conversation. Gran served us both large pieces of pie with whipped cream. She then poured me a glass of sweet tea. I felt her gaze briefly land on me as she poured, so I turned my focus to the way the chunks of ice and lemon slices bustled in the pitcher as if in a strange race to reach my glass first.

“Mitchell had mumps when he was a teen,” Gran said. She set the pitcher back down.

“Uh…” The fork hovered in front of my mouth, pecan temptation a breath away but now the furthest thing from my mind.

“An unfortunate, but rare, side-effect of mumps is infertility.” 

I set my fork down back down on my plate. “Okay.”

“I think you can gather what I’m telling you…” 

“Grandpa couldn’t have babies.” 

“We tried for years… things got tense. Difficult. I’m not proud of the arguments we had.” 

She stared at her plate, and I bit back my retort. I wanted to tell her that was no excuse to cheat. No excuse to go behind someone’s back, but I sensed there was more to Gran’s tale than a dissatisfied wife wanting children.

“He appeared one day. It was a hot day, early June in '54 or '55, I believe. I was outside, hanging sheets on the washing line, and Mitchell had been working long hours at the sawmill. Fintan was beautiful, like God had sent me a ray of sunshine. At first he would come and talk to me, keep me company. I never thought it was strange, a beautiful man emerging from the woods like that just to talk to me. It was like I was bewitched. Or maybe it was the loneliness that let me overlook the oddity of it all. Some time passed and I came to look forward to his visits. Everyday, like clockwork, he would arrive after Mitchell had gone to work. He would help me around the house, talk to me, bring me small gifts. 

“He made me laugh, my, did he make me laugh. And he loved to hear about my life, and learn about how I lived... It was all so strange to him. I thought he was from Europe." Gran focused on straightening the napkin her glass sat on, seemingly embarrassed by this admission. "I never considered he was from somewhere completely different. Who would believe that fairytales were true? Then one day, we were sitting having a picnic in the yard. He'd brought the most exotic foods, and sweet wine. I was telling him something, I can’t remember what, and I realized he was looking at me in a way a man had never looked at me before." 

"What way's that?" I asked, my voice hushed.

"His heart was in his eyes." Gran drew a steadying breath, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "He was in love with me, and though it made me terrified to realize it, I was in love with him too." 

"Oh, Gran..." 

Gran took a clean napkin from the small pile she'd brought with her and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. "He knew of the troubles Mitchell and I were suffering through. He offered the unthinkable... And I said yes. Corbett and Linda arrived within two years of one another." 

"And then what happened?" My heart felt like it had risen from my chest and it was all I could do to try swallow it down. 

"He continued to visit." She then told me to sit tight and disappeared inside. She returned a moment later with a leather-bound photo album and sat it on the table. I was familiar with it. It held all the family photos from when Daddy and Aunt Linda were children. Gran flicked through a few pages before settling her finger on a photograph. "That's him there." 

"Gran... That's Grandpa." It was a family photo, Daddy was only little, his little ruddy cheeks and eyes shiny with good humor. He was sitting on the lap of Grandpa Mitchell, who looked like he’d been saying something when the photo was taken. His face with bright with mirth. She shook her head and smiled gently. 

"Fintan could disguise himself, he did it so he could spend time with the kids." 

I felt as if my breath had been stolen from me. She’d kept this secret from absolutely everyone her entire life. Even me, a telepath. The idea was explosive. How could a person hold onto a full-heart’s worth of love and guilt and never tell a single soul?

"He made me feel like I was the center of his universe. And maybe I was in a way for him. He resented the responsibilities his father placed on him, but visiting Bon Temps, visiting me, was a respite." She moved to the back of the album and slipped her fingers under the very last photograph. It was a picture of Linda's prom night; she'd worn a floor length blue floral dress and her hair was swept over her head in a ridiculous wave. Gran retrieved a photo hiding underneath and passed it to me.

The man in the photo was striking. His cheekbones angular, his nose pointed and stately. The relation to Niall was uncanny. I could see Daddy in him too. Fintan was laying back on a grassy hill, propped up on his elbows, smiling broadly at the camera.

"He's beautiful," I whispered. 

"He was a gas lantern, and I was a moth." Her words were steeped with sadness.

I traced my finger lightly across the photograph. She was right about one thing. His heart was in his eyes. 

“Gran…" I said softly. "Fintan passed away.”

She held still for a long moment, and then nodded once. Gran took this better than I anticipated. I clasped her hand tightly as I handed the photo back, and this time I didn’t pry into her thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has been safe and healthy. I've been busy writing another (as yet unpublished) E/S story, so I apologize for not updating this one as frequently as I have in the past. I won't leave this story hanging forever. I will finish it. Thanks for your patience.


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